


Remember Me Always

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Series: Forget Me Not [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: "Miami" Beach ships Maylor, Anal Sex, Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Attempted Rape, Drink Spiking, Drinking, Flashbacks - Good & Bad, Fluff, Guilt, Guys Protecting Guys, Hurt/Comfort, I don't really want to say homosexual since they're both technically bi in my series but whateves, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Not John Reid Friendly, PTSD?, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Queen on Tour, Seizures, Self-Loathing, Smoking, Soft Boys, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, bad jokes & awful puns, because Dr Brian May, casual cuddling, cramped quarters, just saying, okay?, probably, sorry I still see him as LittleFinger, space references, takes place from fall 1977-1978
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Queen goes on a North American Tour, their longest yet. With Roger still in danger of having seizures and still having flashbacks of his life before his car accident, the band must stick together and help him deal with the life he thought they had left back in London while also trying not to kill each other in the close quarters they're now forced to live together in.Sequel to Forget Me Not.





	1. first tour

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooo. So I promised this sequel and here it is! I've taken certain liberties with tour dates/places as well as medical things in this! I've done some research but I'm not a doctor or anything, so I decided to sort of make my own rules as it pertains to the plot and characters in it. 
> 
> Comment and kudos if you like it!

**.     .     .**

  
“I’m fucking knackered already! I’m ready for a nap. Why did we agree to do this insane tour again?”

Freddie and John smirked and looked over at Brian who rolled his eyes. It was almost a seven hour flight for the men and Roger had done nothing but complain the entire time. They had gotten two tour buses for them, John Reid, Jim Beach, and roadies, and now they were taking them to the Cumberland County Civic Center where they were to play that evening.

“For the one hundredth time, Rog, We agreed to do this because we love our fans, and we need the money. It’s a win-win situation,” the older man explained, sitting up from his place on the couch of the tour bus.

Brian had taken Roger to his neurologist who had ok’d Roger to go on this tour under certain conditions but didn’t exactly tell them what could trigger another seizure in the drummer, so Brian had to trust his own instincts or hope that Roger would remember some more medical schoolings.

Roger looked over at Freddie and John who were deep into their second Scrabble game since arriving here, and looked back over at his boyfriend. “This is fucking mad, Bri! We’re completely booked solid for the next year. Who the hell came up with all these tour dates away? I’m going to go drive this bus off a bridge if we’re stuck in here for that long!”

Brian watched as Roger paced the bus in agitation before he gently reached out and pulled the drummer down on the couch next to him. He wrapped his arm around him, kissing his cheek. “Calm down, love. It’ll be all right. We’re all in the same boat as you,” he saw the younger man shake his head and sigh. “You know why you’re actually upset, don’t you, Rog?” Brian asked knowingly, half teasingly.

“Why?” Roger looked over at him.

“Because this is the first tour you’ve gone on since your accident where you couldn’t smoke like a bloody chimney, and you’re going through withdrawal.”

The drummer knew that Brian was right, but it still was frustrating. “I just want one. One won’t kill me.”

“That remains to be seen.” Brian playfully messed up Roger’s hair, much to his increasing irritation, and then walked over to Freddie and John, eyeing their letters. “Who’s winning?”

“I am,” Freddie said instantly, as if he had expected Brian to ask that, laying down new letters.  “Exclusivity… that’s five, ten, fifteen, sixteen, eighteen… twenty-eight points!”

“Fuck!” John swore before he scoffed, chuckling weakly.

Roger stood up upon hearing the word and walked over to look at the word. “I _gave_ you that word, Freddie!”

Freddie looked up at Roger in utter confusion. “What on _earth_ are you talking about, darling? You didn’t give me that word! I’ve always known that word!”

“No, remember, in the store… back home. We were grocery shopping and talking about what was fun and safe and I told you how those two things didn’t have to be mutually exclusive! Remember?”

The singer shook his head and sighed. “I do remember, actually. I can’t believe that _you_ remember that, but you can’t remember to pick up your bloody shoes! Anyway, I knew exclusivity before I ever met you, dear… so you didn’t give me anything.”

Roger threw his arms up. “Yep! Fine, take all the credit for it, just like with everything else!”

Freddie tensed and looked over at him. “What is that supposed to mean, exactly, Rog? What else do I take credit for? _Do_ inform me.”

“Oh, let’s see! The songs, ideas, album titles… solos, an easier question would be what _don’t_ you take credit for?”

Brian could tell this was spiraling out of control pretty quickly and stood up before he walked in between Freddie and Roger before he looked at his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s go outside for some air.”

“Great!” Roger exclaimed dramatically, the driver opening the door for them. Once they were outside, Brian directed him away from the bus, over to the building where it seemed wasn’t too busy yet.

“Can you cut Freddie a break, Rog? We haven’t even been gone from London for twenty-four hours yet and already you’re fit to be tied, which I’m almost tempted to do if you can’t calm yourself down.”

“Just one, Brian. Just let me have _one_ ,” Roger pleaded, turning to look at him. “One, and I’ll be nice for the rest of the day…”

Brian playfully pulled on a lock of Roger’s blonde hair softly. “Sorry, but we don’t know if it could trigger another seizure or not, and we don’t want you to suffer another one before a show. I don’t think we should chance it.”

Roger sighed heavily. “Fine, can I at least drink?”

Brian looked unsure again.

“Oh come on! One bloody drink!”

The guitarist ran a hand through his hair. “You usually drink a lot when you do drink, Roger. If you only drank one or two, I’d consider it, but… you basically binge drink. I wouldn’t be surprised if doing that caused a seizure.”

“You don’t even know for sure!” Roger argued.

“Shouldn’t _you_ know about this? You’re the one who majored in biology and medicine!” Brian suddenly argued, throwing his arms up in the air as he began to lose his patience with the younger man. “No smoking, no drinking… at least not until we can get answers for sure. Just… take deep breaths, try to relax, yeah?”

“I smoked and drank to relax!” Roger groaned and then turned around before he headed back towards the bus, but stayed outside it, slowly pacing back and forth casually.

Brian sighed and watched him, gently rubbing his shoulder before he got back on the bus and walked over to Freddie and John who had finished their last game and were now putting the pieces away.

“Don’t worry, Bri,” John spoke up, glancing at the other man as he sat down beside them. “He’ll adjust to things soon enough. He did before.”

The guitarist looked over at him with helpless eyes. “Before, Rog could smoke and drink as much he wanted. When we went on tour before his accident, he actually enjoyed himself. Now he can’t smoke or drink and he’s going through hell, not to mention he’s being a pain in the arse.”

Freddie put the game to the side and turned his body to look at his friend, sipping his tea. “Of course he’s being a pain in the arse, darling. He can’t do two of his three favorite things anymore! What harm would _one_ cigarette or _one_ drink do to him anyway?”

Brian shrugged. “That’s the point, Fred. We don’t know. We don’t know what it would do to him. What if it triggered another seizure?”

John thought about this and answered before the singer could. “What if it did?” He shrugged. “He’s had a total of two seizures since his accident. Neither have made his condition worse. He’s remembering more long term things now, like what he talked about earlier with the store. I’d say he’s even improving. I don’t think having a seizure once every… couple months is going to seriously hurt him, certainly not kill him.”

“How do you even know, though?” Brian challenged calmly.

Freddie looked over at John now.

“I’ve done some research,” John explained now. “Back home. I took out some medical books about seizures, and not a lot is really known but… nine out of a thousand people die of epilepsy, but that number is lower when the person who’s having the seizure takes medication for it, like Roger is doing. From what I’ve read, smoking can increase his chance of having a seizure, but like I said, it’s not known for certain.”

Brian took this in and couldn’t help but feel proud of the bassist for doing his research. Then he felt like absolutely shit. If he was any kind of boyfriend, he would’ve done the research too, but he hadn’t. Brian had been too wrapped up in helping John Reid plan this tour, paying all the rent, getting his van fixed, that he simply hadn’t even thought about doing research about seizures, the very affliction Roger was suffering. 

Fuck.

“So… you think it’s all right for him to smoke?” The older man asked.

John wet his lips in thought. “I think it’s okay if he has a couple every now and then as long as he’s not smoking as much as he used to. There didn’t seem to be any direct correlation, but I don’t know if we should just let him smoke when he wants to, however many he wants.”

Brian nodded in agreement and gave the bassist a grateful smile. “Thanks, John. I guess one of us should be looking out for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Brian,” Freddie looked at him. “You look out for him just fine. If you weren’t around, I’m entirely convinced he’d be dead by now.”

Brian scoffed softly. “Oh, great. Thanks for that. That’s reassuring, Freddie.”

“Oh, stop, darling. You know exactly how I meant it.”

 

Brian nodded in understanding and looked out the bus window at Roger who was leaning against it, looking somewhat solemn and tense before he looked back at Freddie and John. “I’m really worried about this tour, gentlemen. Roger’s strong, but… being in close quarters for almost a year with only a day or two breaks in between shows? He’s not going to like that.”

Freddie shrugged. “He doesn’t have to like it, dear. He just needs to deal with it.”

“I get that, Fred,” the older man nodded reluctantly. “But it’s not like he can go and lock himself in his room if we have a fight, can he? This bus has all the amenities and everything but it’s still not home, and he has no privacy. He’s going to be like a tiger locked in a small cage.”

Freddie was quiet now, not really seeming to have an answer anymore. He simply nodded in acknowledgement. It was John who spoke next though.

“Don’t worry, Brian,” he said gently. “Whatever happens, we’ll be here for him. We have no choice. We just have to keep an eye on him, look out for him, help him. No, this isn’t going to be easy for him, but we’ll help him through it, all of it.”

John’s words seemed to put Brian’s mind at ease and he relaxed slightly, nodding thankfully. “Good.”

“John’s right, darling,” Freddie agreed, smiling weakly. “This tour will be a bit rough, sure, but we’ll get through it, just like we did with our first and second ones with him. Now go be with your lover boy.”

Brian chuckled, nodding. “All right, Freddie. Thank you.”

 He smiled at the two of them before he walked back outside to see Jim “Miami” Beach approach Roger with a concerned expression on his face.

“Are you all right, Roger?” he asked in a hushed voice, searching Roger’s eyes like a concerned father.

“Yeah,” the drummer nodded, also talking low. “I’m fine.”

Jim didn’t look entirely convinced but he nodded once. “I know I just help manage you, but we’re all in this together, mate. I’m here if you ever need someone… else to talk to. Yeah?”

Roger smiled weakly, nodding. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

 Jim looked over at Brian who had walked over to them slowly, letting them have a moment together, and then clapped a hand on Roger’s shoulder before he went back to the other bus.

Brian looked at Roger with loving, questioning eyes and relaxed when the drummer gave a reassuring smile, nodding in silent understanding. A few minutes later, the two bandmates saw a couple young women shyly walk up to the two of them.

“Excuse us,” the one girl spoke, biting her lip nervously. “You’re from Queen, right?”

Brian would’ve thought that was fairly obvious until he realized that Roger and him were both standing in front of the Queen sign on the bus, and Jim Beach’s bus had been parked on the opposite side so perhaps it wasn’t very obvious at all.

“Why yes, we are, as a matter of fact,” Brian smiled politely. “The others are on the bus still. Would you like us to go and get them?”

The other girl shook her head and also bit her lip. “Umm… you two are actually our favorite, no offense. The others are great and all, but you two are the ones we’d like to see.”

Roger seemed to get a bit of courage now that he was in the presence of two women and cleared his throat before he straightened his spine.

“Oh, well I suppose we’re flattered then,” the guitarist chuckled. “What would you young ladies like?”

The two girls looked at each other and giggled before they blushed and shrugged. “Could we have a photo with both of you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Roger answered for the both of them, nodding and smiling his charming smile. “Go ahead and get in close with Brian. I’ll take the picture.”

The girls giggled again and after Roger had taken the picture, Brian switched off with him. Once they were done, Roger looked at them. “Anything else?”

“Umm…” the one girl started to play with her hair. “Could we… maybe see the inside of your bus?”

Roger and Brian exchanged looks and chuckled. The older man nodded and shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Come on board, ladies.”

The two men led the young women onto the bus, much to Freddie and John’s surprise and Brian and Roger both led them over to the small crowded compartment area near the back where their bunks were before moving back over to where the other two bandmates were.

“Of course, this is Freddie Mercury, and John Deacon, our better halves.”

The two girls smiled and waved, obviously looking very excited to be inside the bus. “Hi, John…’

The bass player flashed a shy smile and waved. “Hello.”

Freddie cast a look over to Brian and Roger and stood up. “It’s been just wonderful meeting you ladies, but I’m afraid it’s time for our band meeting. We’ll see you at the show tonight, though, I’m sure.” He gently motioned the way out for the girls who looked slightly disappointed but nodded and left the bus.

“What band meeting, Freddie?” John asked.

The singer smirked before he shrugged and sat back down. “There isn’t one, of course. I just thought there was a bit too many estrogen on the bus is all. It was getting difficult to breathe. Anyway, by the way Roger was ogling them, I figured it was better to get rid of temptation.”

Roger became hyperaware of everyone looking over at him now and he blinked, shaking his head. “Fuck you, Fred. I wasn’t ogling either of them. I’m a taken man now,” he defended himself.

“Of course you are, Rog,” Freddie nodded. “It doesn’t mean you can’t look for other options, though.”

Brian playfully narrowed his eyes at the singer and saw Freddie start to smirk. He reached across the bus and gently shoved him.

Freddie stumbled a little bit. “Easy now, darling… don’t want to seriously injure the lead singer before the big show in a couple hours.”

“Which reminds me,” Brian yawned. “I need to nap before it. I’m jetlagged as hell.”

“Me too,” headed for the back of the back Roger agreed, starting towards the back of the bus.

Brian smiled. “You and John wouldn’t mind getting things set up inside for us, would you?” When Freddie shook his head and sighed before flipping him up, he returned it in jest and headed for the back as well.

 

**ꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷ**

After the show, the guys waved goodbye to the smaller sized audience and then made their way off the stage but decided to hang out for a bit inside. John and Freddie both had a few drinks to celebrate their first show of the tour, but Brian stayed sober for Roger’s sake, feeling bad that the drummer couldn’t drink as much as he wanted to.

The two of them were leaning against the wall, watching Freddie and John both welcome fans, hugging them and shaking their hands in appreciation.

“Go ahead, Bri. I’m fine, really. Just drink… one of us should be able to.”

The guitarist shook his head.

“No, Rog. It’s perfectly all right. I don’t need to. Unlike Freddie, I can still have a fun time without drinking.”

Roger scoffed, shaking his head, quickly changing his appearance out of politeness when fans would smile or say hi to him before going back to the look he was currently giving Brian. When the older man looked over, he saw how anxious Roger looked, his hands moving back and forth.

John’s words earlier started running through his head and Brian bit his lip before he placed a hand on his boyfriend’s back before he reached into his pocket and pulled out Roger’s package of cigarettes and his lighter before handing one over to him.

The drummer took it but looked at him inquiringly. “I thought I wasn’t allowed?”

Brian smiled. “It’s just the one. I don’t think one will hurt.” He handed Roger his lighter and watched as he lit the cigarette, taking a long drag in relief.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no worries.” He stood next to Roger against the wall but made sure the two of them weren’t _too_ close to draw attention to themselves, and resisted the urge to hold his hand.

He didn’t say anything to him and let the drummer enjoy the cigarette until he was halfway through it, and then saw Roger look over at him, looking uneasy.

“C-Can we go outside? I think I need some air…”

Brian tensed a bit. _Shit, maybe the cigarette hadn’t been a good idea after all._

“Yeah, of course. Come on,” he led Roger out of the venue until they were outside where the air was cooler, but not yet in the cold phase of fall. “You okay?”

Roger appeared to relax again and nodded, going back to smoking again as they started to walk in the direction of the tour bus. He walked in between the two tour buses so no one could see them except maybe their managers and the bus drivers. “It was just getting a bit crowded in there. I wasn’t feeling great.”

Brian nodded, carefully watching the male. “Are you feeling dizzy or anything?”

Roger shook his head. “No, I’m all right, I think,” he was quiet for a while before he leaned his head against the bus and closed his eyes as he relaxed. “What were the first tours like, when you – we, were just starting out?”

The question broke Brian’s heart a little as he was reminded of a time that Roger couldn’t even remember, that he’d never get to experience again. All he knew was their popularity right now. Roger looked over at him expectantly.

“Small,” Brian smiled in thought. “We had small crowds, mostly university students, in small venues that only got around by word of mouth mostly. We had a small fan base, not a whole lot of people, and they were mostly impressed with Freddie’s voice than anything else. Of course, you were also pretty popular. All the women seemed to love you.”

Roger smiled almost sadly before he finished his cigarette and put it out on the ground. “I wouldn’t know. Not like any of it matters anymore since I’m with you.”

Brian smiled lovingly before a thought crossed his mind. “Do you regret it? Regret… us?”

The drummer looked tired but he shook his head. “No, I don’t. I remember by memories and the flashes what it was like with them, but… I know _physically_ how it is with you, and I feel like that’s what I know. I like that a lot, and… I don’t feel attracted to them like I am with you. Do you regret us?”

Brian immediately shook his head. “No. I didn’t feel attracted to any other men before you, and I haven’t since. I’m really glad I have you. I love you, Rog. I don’t want anyone else.”

The blonde grinned now before he chuckled to ease the seriousness. “Good, me either.”

Brian also grinned brightly before he wrapped his arms around Roger and hugged him tightly and half-danced with him between the buses before he kissed his lips. He felt Roger tense up a bit but then felt him kiss him back.

When they parted, they both felt a set of eyes on them and they looked up across the lot at the tour bus to see Jim Beach in the window giving them a thumbs up with a cheeky smile on his face before he turned around and disappeared from view.

Brian and Roger both groaned simultaneously before they laughed and got on their own tour bus.

“I’m fucking wiped,” the drummer complained, yawning as he started climbing into the top bunk when Brian gently grabbed his waist.

“Hey, wait. Let me get in first.”

“Why?”

“You’re smaller. It’s more awkward if you spoon me, isn’t it?”  Brian observed.

Roger sighed but agreed and let Brian get on the inside of the top bunk first before he also climbed in, reluctantly agreeing how this did feel more comfortable. He felt Brian start to kiss him again, and Roger returned it, letting his tongue collide with the older man’s, before the two of them parted, grinning lovingly at each other.

“I’m really sorry, but I really am wiped,” Roger apologized.

Brian chuckled before he kissed Roger’s temple. “That’s fine, love. Another time. Goodnight, Rog.”

“Goodnight, Bri. I love you.”

His words warmed Brian’s heart. “I love you too, Rog.” 


	2. bus fever

**.    .    .**

 

_“You want to become this, a bloody piss poor rock star? This isn’t how we raised you, son.”_

_“That’s right, because you barely raised me at all! You were always off at the bar when mum and I needed you here, weren’t you?”_

_“I’m your father, Roger, and I won’t let you disrespect me like this!”_

_Roger suddenly spit on the floor near his father. “To disrespect you, I suppose I’d actually have respect for you in the first place!”_

_SMACK!_

_Roger felt a sharp rush of pain flow into his cheek as his head snapped in the direction of the upswing. His eyes narrowed darkly at the older man who didn’t show one ounce of remorse for his actions. “That’s it! I’m fucking out!”_

_“Roger! Get back here right this instant!”_

_“Piss off!”_

_“ROGER!”_

The drummer yelped as he jolted out of his dream and landed hard on the floor. He groaned in mild pain and rubbed his eyes. “Shit… owww….”

When he looked up, he saw three sets of eyes peering down at him in worry.

“Are you all right?”

Roger groaned again as he sat up from his place on the floor and ran his hand over his face, realizing now that it was wet with what he could only assume were tears. _When had he started crying?_

He nodded and then saw Brian jump down from the top bunk onto the floor where Roger was and help him back up on his feet. “Nothing seems to be broken…”

Roger shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m fine,” he replied tiredly before he moved past Brian and into the medium sized bathroom before closing the door behind him. He looked at himself in the mirror and then turned the tap on before he washed his face with cold water.

There was a knock at the door and then he saw it open and close again, coming face to face with a worried looking Brian who was leaning in the doorway.

“Another flashback?”

Upon first waking up, Roger hadn’t been entirely sure until he had woken up a little with a sense of certainty that his dream had actually been a memory that had happened. He looked at the guitarist with hurt in his eyes.

“My father and I were fighting, and he hit me. Then I walked out.”

Brian gave him a sad smile and nodded. “Yeah, I remember that day… you were really upset.”

Roger searched his face before he bit his lip and looked back down at his hands. “Can you… tell me what else happened that day? When you saw me? I mean, what did we do? I can’t really remember that part.”

Brian walked over to the drummer and wrapped an arm around his chest from behind before he kissed his neck softly, looking at him in the mirror. He wished he could erase all the bad memories forever, but maybe it was important that Roger remember them.

“Well, it was raining pretty heavily and at the time I was living at a flat near my university. You showed up there, soaking wet, crying but you were also really angry. Of course, I let you inside, you changed your clothes into dry ones, I poured us a drink and you chain smoked for a while. Finally, you told me about the row with your father, and you said you weren’t ever going to go back there, and you haven’t,” Brian explained, kissing his head gently.

Roger met Brian’s eyes in the mirror, nodding as he listened. “Did we use to hang out a lot at your flat?”

The older man smiled in nostalgia, nodding. “We did, and if we weren’t there, then we were at _your_ flat near your university. We’d hang out after our classes usually, head to a café for lunch on our breaks and talk, or at a pub if it was a Friday evening.”

Roger smiled now at the thought of doing that. “I wish I remembered that.”

Brian couldn’t lie; he wished that he did too. All those small memories that hadn’t seen significant at the time were gone and lost forever now, and had proven in the end, to be big memories. He caressed Roger’s shoulder with his thumb.

“It’s all right, Rog. You can’t help what you can’t remember. There’s still time. Maybe you _will_ eventually remember it. Who knows, yeah?”

The blonde nodded and turned around to face Brian just as the bus gave a jolt and then stopped abruptly, knocking the two men into each other clumsily. “Where are we now?”

“Err… I don’t know. Let’s go see.” Brian opened the door and saw Freddie and John both changing their clothes and looking out the window. He also walked over and saw that the bus was parked in front of a restaurant. “It appears to be lunchtime.”

“Oh good, I’m starving!” Roger declared, prying open the bus doors before the driver could manually open them.

“Shit!” Brian swore as he scrambled to get dressed. “Roger! Wait! Fuck.” He ran after Roger who was only wearing his pajama bottoms, a t-shirt and socks and gently grabbed his arm to stop him from going inside. “Are you mad?”

Roger turned to face him, confused. “What? I’m hungry! I’m getting food. That’s what normal people do when they’re hungry still, right? They eat?”

Brian chuckled and shook his head. “At least throw on some shoes first so you don’t look like some poor homeless gent. They won’t serve you without shoes!”

“But I’m hungry! I don’t want to go back on the bus, get shoes on, and then have to go back in,” the drummer whined.

“Oh my god, you’re the laziest person I’ve ever met,” Brian smirked. “Just do it. I’ll order for you. Go on now, you silly monster.”

Roger let out a groan of irritation of being mildly inconvenienced and then stomped back onto the bed. As much of a pain the drummer could be, Brian always found himself amused by Roger’s laziness, and was yet again reminded of how he used to be. It were as if he hadn’t ever been in an accident at all.

He walked inside the casual restaurant with John and Freddie, the three of them finding a booth and sliding down inside with Brian on the end so he could sit next to Roger. Brian even ended up ordering for Roger like he had promised and the three of them sipped coffee.

“He’s been gone for ages!” John laughed. “Is he all right?”

“I think so,” Brian sighed, shaking his head in disbelief just as Roger found them and slid down beside Brian. “I can’t believe it took you fifteen minutes to look for shoes. What else were you doing?”

“Oh please, if it’s what I think it was, _do_ leave out the details, Rog,” Freddie teased as he lit a cigarette and took a drag off of it.

Roger chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I swear it took that long just to try and find shoes! I couldn’t bloody find them! All of Freddie’s clothes were blocking them. Also, I can’t believe you have so many sparkly outfits, Fred. Honestly, I swear I feel like we’re touring with a member of the circus or something.”

“Are you calling me a freak, Roger?” Freddie feigned hurt, a challenging tone in his voice.

“No, I’m calling your clothes freak-ish,” Roger defended.

John was laughing so hard right now, Brian could see a glint of tears in his eyes and let out a soft laugh as well before he put his hand up. “Okay, all right. That’s enough, children. Our food’s going to be here shortly.”

“Good, I’m starving!”

“So you’ve said before, Roger,” John remarked.

“Well I am!” Roger groaned and then watched silently as Freddie smoked his cigarette, feeling his own urge to do the same building up inside of him.

Brian could see the longing on his boyfriend’s face and then gave a pointed look at Freddie before he motioned with his head towards Roger without the drummer noticing. Freddie must have gotten the hint because he cleared his throat and held the cigarette out in offering.

“Would you like the rest, darling?”

Roger looked taken back at first, but then nodded appreciatively and carefully took the half smoked cigarette from the singer and took a drag from it. “Thanks, Freddie.”

“Of course, dear.” Freddie took another cigarette out now before he lit it, blowing the smoke away from the other guys as he glanced around. “Where on earth are we again?”

“No idea,” John shrugged.

Brian saw Jim and John both walk inside the restaurant now and waved them down. He saw John talk to one of the waitresses before she led the two men over to the empty table beside the one the band members were and seated them there before taking their drink orders and disappearing again.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Jim greeted in high spirits. “We see you’ve made yourselves comfortable already. How are we feeling this morning?”

“Great,” Brian said quickly, eager to get to the point. “Where exactly are we again, Jim?”

“Miami,” Freddie corrected him with a grin.

John and Roger both smirked and chuckled as well.

“I’m pretty sure we’re not in Miami,” Brian teased the singer who just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Jim Beach seemed amused by the conversation and John Reid even cracked a smile. “We’re in Boston, Massachusetts. Time sure flies when you’re sleeping, doesn’t it?”

Brian nodded slowly and sighed. “Sure does. Where are we playing tonight?”

“Boston Garden, it’s an arena and it’s set to be sold out, and the show is at 7.”  Jim smiled at the waitress who placed their coffees on the table before taking their order and leaving again.

“It’s not until tonight?” Roger asked with annoyance. “What the hell are we supposed to do until then?”

Jim and John both looked at each other for answers before looking back at the boys.

“Whatever you do,” John answered. “Stay out of trouble before the show.”

“Who says we’re going to get into trouble?” Roger asked defensively as the food came. Immediately, he started to dig in.

“No,” Jim Beach shook his head with a slight smile before he pointed to Brian, John and Freddie. “They don’t get into trouble,” then he pointed to Roger. “Only you seem to manage to get into trouble.”

The drummer knitted his eyebrows but he was smirking, shrugging. “Well it’s not my fault, is it? I don’t remember any of that from before.” He dug into his breakfast hungrily.

That was a statement all of them seemed to see Roger’s point about and nodded before shrugged and started to eat as well. They were interrupted a few times by fans who recognized them and they stopped eating long enough to take pictures and sign autographs with people.

They had finished their food and were on their way out to go back on the bus when John spoke up. “I’d hate to be one of those fans who had a picture taken with you, Rog. You couldn’t even manage to get changed into real clothes.”

“Well, good thing you didn’t have to, Deaky,” the drummer walked back onto the bus and sat down on the couch, putting his legs out and accidentally tripped Freddie who playfully kicked his legs away. “So where are we going now?”

Brian sat down beside Roger and heard the engine of the bus turn back on before it started to move again. “I guess we’re following the other bus,” he shrugged, glancing over at Roger who looked impatient and angry. He saw Freddie and John were talking to each other so he leaned over and looked at the blonde. “You all right, Rog?”

The drummer shook his head. “My head’s killing me.”

Brian searched his face. “You haven’t taken your medication today, have you, Roger?” He felt like it was his responsibility now as his boyfriend to make sure that he did take it, and when he hadn’t taken them, Brian felt like that was on him. Like he wasn’t taking care of him well enough.

“No, I haven’t.”

Brian chewed on his lips anxiously. “You’ve got to take your meds, Roger. It could be the difference between life and death, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Roger sighed, shaking his head. “Give me a break, Bri. I had just woke up! I’m not about to take anything before coffee…”

“I’m serious, Rog,” Brian searched his face.

The drummer nodded reluctantly and stood up. “Fine. I’ll go take them now, all right? Just quit nagging me.” Without waiting for an answer, he walked towards the back and grabbed his pills out of a backpack before he swallowed them down with water from the fridge before he climbed into the bottom bunk. “I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me if we get somewhere. Let me sleep all day.”

Brian sighed to himself, knowing it wasn’t good that Roger wanted to sleep all day. Wanting to sleep more was a sign of depression, and it was bad if this was only the second day of touring and he just wanted to sleep all day.

Freddie moved to the other side of the bus and sat down beside Brian. “Is Roger okay?” he asked quietly.

The guitarist wanted to lie and say he was, but he really wasn’t sure. He shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he has a headache,” at this, John moved over and sat down on the other side of Brian on the couch.

“Headaches could potentially be warning signs for seizures,” John remarked, biting his lip.

Brian’s chest ached now and he ran his hand through his hair. “Anything else that can cause them?”

Freddie was now looking over at John with interest as he started talking again. “Stress, missing medication… do you think Roger’s about to have another one?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said with dread in his voice. “I hope not, but… I can tell he’s a bit stressed out by this long tour already, and he didn’t take his medication earlier. I can’t… keep tabs on him, like a child. He should be responsible for himself…”

“He should be, darling, but we both know he usually isn’t. You can only do so much, and he’s reckless. He’s just as reckless now as he was before the accident. That part of him isn’t gone, dear. We just need to keep an eye on him, and if he has a seizure, then we’ll just be there, and help him through it,” the singer replied, shrugging.

John and Brian both nodded. Brian knew that his friend was right; Roger was just as reckless now as he was before his accident, and it was like he was reverting back to his old ways again. It scared the older man, but he was only one man, and he could only do so much. Roger was the way he was, for better or worse.

The bus stopped at what looked like a mall but Brian stayed on the bus with Roger while Freddie and John both decided to walk around and shop for a few hours to kill time. Brian grabbed his guitar from the other bus before getting back to his and practiced quietly without the amp plugged in for about an hour before he climbed under the blankets with Roger on his bottom bunk and heard the younger man groan before he opened his eyes.

“You feel like, a thousand degrees, Bri. I’m melting.”

Brian chuckled and then wrapped an arm around the drummer before he kissed his lips. He was worried about Roger and just being close to him helped to put his mind at ease a little bit. He suddenly thought about earlier this morning when Roger had fallen out of bed; had he hit his head on the floor hard when he fell? Was that why he had a headache?  He was still concerned about the risk of a seizure but felt better knowing that Roger had taken his meds.

“How’re you feeling?”

Roger shrugged. “I still have it, but I’ll be okay. Where are we now?”

“At a mall, I believe. Freddie and John both went inside. Can I get you any water or anything?”

Roger lifted his one arm out from under the covers and showed him the bottle. “I’m good. Can you just… stay here with me?” His voice was so childlike that the guitarist didn’t even hesitate in nodding.

“Of course I can.” He kissed his forehead before running his hand though his messy hair. He felt lips attacking his own now and returned the kiss, holding Roger close to him. Brian was listening for any signs of movement up front but he was fairly sure even the driver had gotten off the bus and elsewhere.

Roger eagerly pulled off Brian’s shirt and started to press his soft lips to the guitarist’s skin. The two men fumbled with each other’s pants with nervous hands but eventually managed to undo them, chuckling in their eagerness. As they make out, they both began to feel warmer and eventually threw away the blankets, shoving them in a corner of the bunk before concentrating on each other again.

“Fuck, Rog… you’re beautiful.”

Roger smirked and then ran his hands along Brian’s chest. “You are too, Bri.”

They pushed their pants and underwear off their legs and the younger man found himself facing the bunk wall with Brian behind him. The two men breathed heavily as their hands ran down each other’s bodies in need.

He felt Brian momentarily pause and move away from him slightly to grab something off his top bunk and found out what it was when he felt Brian’s cool, moist fingers enter his body first to help lube Roger, feeling what he really wanted enter his body moments later, slowly.

Roger groaned in pleasure, clutching the sheets of the top bunk with his fingers, his breath hitching as he felt the guitarist’s fingers slid down to his waist as Brian started to make love to him a bit faster and harder, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s body as he did so. The two of them were moaning in pleasure as their bodies collided against each other’s until they both felt ecstasy hit them at the same time, their moans louder when they reached their maximum pleasure levels.

Sweat was glistening their bodies and they were starting to come down from their highs when they heard a voice.

“Holy fucking Christ on a cracker! For god’s sake, you both couldn’t wait until a time when we could actually stay in a hotel and not on this bus during our two day breaks?”

Freddie’s voice made both of them jump, not having expected to hear it yet, and Roger and Brian found themselves quickly pulling their pants up.

“Fucking hell, Freddie! You could’ve at least knocked on the door or something!” Roger swore.

The singer looked slightly amused as he and John sat down on the couch. “Knock? Are you dense, darling? This is my home away from home as well! Why should _I_ knock when you haven’t knocked the entire time I’ve known you and I’ve had men over?”

Roger scoffed. “Once again, I don’t remember those times! Anyway, it’s called common decency, Fred. Honestly…”

Freddie let out a laugh. “Decency? That’s interesting that you use that word now, Roger, because the whole time I’ve known you, you’ve yet to be decent about anything to anyone.”

Brian sighed and put his shirt back on. “All right, all right. Calm down, yeah? We have a show in a couple hours. Let’s make sure there’s actually a band to play and no one finds either of you have killed each other. Back to your corners.”

Freddie looked at John who gave a weak smile, obviously trying to stay out of this confrontation.

“I bought something for you, Rog,” John said softly, trying to lift up the drummer’s mood.

Roger didn’t bother putting his shirt back but made sure his pants were done back up before he walked over to John, looking at him with interest. “Oh yeah? What’d you get me, Deaky?”

The bassist reached in a plastic bag and pulled out a candy bar before he handed it to him. Roger looked at it for a moment, partially in confusion before he smiled. “Thanks, John.”

Brian and Freddie both looked a bit confused but Roger started to eat it and nodded approvingly.

“It’s your favorite,” John suddenly said. “I mean, or at least it was the last time I checked.”

Brian understood now and gave the younger man a grin and a thumbs up behind Roger’s back. Maybe if the drummer ate the same things he ate before, it might help him remember something else. They felt the bus start moving again.

“Are you joking? _Now_ where are we going?” Roger asked with a mouthful of chocolate as he chewed.

Freddie shook his head in disbelief. “We’re going to the arena to do a sound check, Rog. Do try to not get your knickers in a twist, dear! I know you’re eating candy right now but contrary to popular belief, you’re actually over nine years old.”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked, affronted.

John smiled tightly. “He means, Roger, that you’re acting like a child when you shouldn’t be.”

Roger gave a frustrated look before he scoffed and sat on the couch across from Freddie and John, continuing to eat his candy without further argument, perhaps seeing John’s point.

It was a relatively quiet ride to the arena and Brian felt relief when they finally arrived. They could finally get off the bus for more than an hour and be free for several hours. He was the first one off the bus and hurried to the other one, eager to help set things up for their show that night.


	3. for better or worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy mother's day, everyone! And if you don't get along with your mother, then I hope you made it all about yourself! 
> 
> Also, if ya'll have read my other Bo Rap stories, then you all know I pretty much update every day unless I'm sick or something happens to me so yeah, pretty much expect a new chapter every day since I have no life, haha.
> 
> Okay, enjoy!

**.     .    .**

 

 

Brian knew that he didn’t actually have to help bring in the instruments and help get everything set up, since that was what roadies were for, but he found it somewhat cathartic to do so anyway and the roadies didn’t seem to mind either.

He was surprised when he saw Roger taking the other half of his drum kit into the arena and on the stage near where Brian had set up the amps for his guitar. He glanced over to watch him and smiled to himself as he watched the young man at work.

“I’m surprised you remember how to set everything up,” Brian spoke, awe in his tone.

Roger finished what he was doing and looked over at him, shrugging. “Muscle memory?”

Brian laughed softly. “Must be.” He saw Freddie and John walking towards them with Freddie’s mic and John’s bass in their hands respectively. He had gone in here to escape from everyone and it had backfired, ending with all of them following him in.

“Remind me again why we have roadies again, darling?” Freddie huffed and puffed once he got to the stage. “If you two are just going to bring your own instruments inside and set them up yourselves, then we could probably save our money and let them go, don’t you think?”

Brian shrugged. “They can set it up on days when we’re hungover, so it’s not like it’s completely redundant. Anyway, why did you two bring your own instruments in if you’re worried about them not having a job to do?”

It was John who spoke for the singer, obviously sharing in the same thought as him. “Well it makes us look like prima donnas if we don’t take our own shit when you two do, doesn’t it?” he asked knowingly.

Roger chuckled at John’s comment and nodded. “Yes, yes it does, Deaky.”

Freddie and John simultaneously reversed peace signs to flip the drummer off before they started to set up their equipment. Brian messed up Roger’s hair in fondness as he passed him on the stage to make sure none of the chords were going to be in the way and gently kicking away the ones that were.

“Are we ready to sound check yet, darlings?”

“I believe we are,” verified the guitarist as he picked his instrument up and started to tune it.

Roger climbed behind his drum kit and watched as John started to tune up his bass his well. He hit his cymbals a bit before he pressed his foot to hit the bass drum a few times to warm up. He stopped drumming to rub his headache that seemed to only be getting worse. None of the others seemed to take a lot of notice though, which was just fine with him, to be honest.

Then everyone heard Freddie start to sing in the intro vocals of ‘Killer Queen,’ except the lyrics were vastly different. “Roger keeps complaining, about every little thing, while Brian gets in his pants, and neither one can sing… all they do is fuck –"

Brian fake laughed and shook his head. “Very funny, Fred.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. I’m just warming up my vocal chords! Anyway, it’s not my fault that you and Roger decide to screw like rabbits whenever you feel like…”

Roger angrily hit the cymbals to get his attention. “That was once! Once, for the past two days we’ve been touring, Freddie!”

Brian nodded in agreement with the drummer. “Exactly, so just take it easy, Freddie. Anyway, how many times have you brought someone home to our flat at least every night? It’s our turn to have some fun. You don’t have a leg to stand on in this argument, I’m afraid.”

John was quiet as he was busy warming up but had a vague idea about what they were arguing about, or he was at least pretending to be to avoid being a part of this confrontation.

“Well good thing I have an extra leg, then, isn’t it?”

John suddenly let out a loud laugh and Brian let out a chuckle hearing the quieter band mate suddenly laugh so loud.

Roger scoffed in playful disgust and then played a rim shot on his drums, which caused Brian to laugh again while Freddie smirked and shrugged.

“Sorry, dears…I simply couldn’t resist.”

John shook his head but was grinning. “You’re simply awful, Freddie.”

The men spent an hour in warm-ups as more people started to come inside the enclosed arena and Brian was sure all of the men could feel the excitement in the air as show time got closer and closer. He looked back at Roger who was now chugging a bottle of water, along with Freddie and locked eyes with the drummer.

Roger gave him a smile and a nod to let him know he was all right, even though he was feeling pretty far from it. He felt himself staring off into space and before he knew it, he could hear Freddie talking into the mic to the audience who had all piled in already.

_Had he missed some time? Had he just blacked out, and for how long?_

He swallowed hard, feeling somewhat fearful. He took a deep breath and saw Brian looking over at him worriedly but he decided to focus his attention on the singer instead.

“It’s lovely to see you against, Boston!” Freddie flirted into the mic as the crowd cheered. “Are you all ready to have some fun with us tonight? This is an older one of ours, but still one of our favorites. We hope it’s one of yours as well…”

The audience cheered and screamed again and then Brian started the intro chords to ‘Keep Yourself Alive.’ Roger drummed through their set list and by the end of it, sweat was dripping down nearly all of their bodies between the increased tempo of their songs and their playing, and the burning bright lights from above.

The lights were what was killing Roger most of all, though. His head felt like it was splitting and he was grateful by the end of the show a few hours later, quickly waving goodbye to the audience with his drumsticks before he hurried off stage and headed outside.

He could feel it coming, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it to the buses in time. As he walked outside, he could feel a tingling in his fingers and looked at his hand.

It looked strange, in a way he couldn’t describe; like his hand was almost alien or his fingers were too long. His heart was racing in his chest now and then suddenly felt himself lose consciousness as his body fell forward.

Brian had swiftly followed Roger out as soon as he saw him disappear from the stage. He knew what was about to happen and he wanted to be there for it. He saw Roger’s body start to sway and ran over to him just as he saw the drummer start to fall forward. Brian quickly wrapped his arms around him and moved onto the ground carefully with him so at least Roger hadn’t been in danger of seriously hurting himself if he had fallen full force.

He lay the blonde on his side and then pulled off his own shirt before he bundled it up and placed it under his head. Then he undid the buttons on Roger’s shirt and moved his collar a bit to loosen his clothing a bit and help make him more comfortable.

He watched the man convulse on the ground and he was about to try to restrain him when he heard John’s voice and two sets of rapid footsteps come up from behind him.

“No, Brian!” John ran over to them and knelt down beside Roger and Brian. “You shouldn’t retrain him. I read that you need to just let him convulse if he’s going to, just keep him on his side. Most seizures end in a few minutes…”

Brian took his hands off of his body quickly now but ran his fingers through Roger’s hair, wanting to just let him know that he was here and that he cared about him. He felt terrified watching the young man’s body jolt and convulse like it was, not used to seeing it move in this way.

“W-What else do we do? Should we… call s-someone?”

John looked over at him with a surprisingly calm expression on his face. “Only if it lasts longer than five minutes, if he’s having difficulty breathing, if he has more seizures, or if he doesn’t go back to his conscious self again. That’s what I read.”

Brian nodded quickly and suddenly noticed Freddie kneeling across from him on the opposite side of Roger and he looked more terrified than Brian, tears visible in the singer’s eyes. He suddenly felt like he had a new purpose in this agonizing stage of waiting for the seizure to pass.

“Freddie…” when the other man sniffed and looked across at him. “He’s going to be all right. It’ll pass soon.” Somehow, he felt like he pull himself together and be strong when he had to help the others do the same.

Freddie nodded quickly. “O-Of course he will, dear.”

The men waited for what felt like forever when they heard more footsteps coming from the side door and turned to see their managers and roadies coming out after clearing up the equipment.

“Mmm….” Roger groaned softly.

They turned back to the drummer, all of them seemingly breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing Roger return to consciousness again. Brian felt his heart break when he saw tears running down his face and watched Roger’s eyes open slowly to look at him. He felt like he could read his mind, and gently thumbed away the tears, knowing that that’s what he would do if he was more aware and physically able.

“It’s all right, Rog, stay still. You’re okay. Just relax,” Brian spoke softly to him, leaning in close and finding that he was no longer afraid.

Roger looked like he was fighting to keep his eyes open but in the end, his own exhaustion won and Brian watched him fall asleep right there on the pavement parking lot.

“Not to be insensitive right now, gentlemen,” Jim Beach’s voice came softly from behind the boys. “But we really need to move him onto the bus before everyone else comes out and sees Roger like this.”

“Right,” Brian nodded in understanding. It’d be even harder to get all of them out of here if someone else saw them. He thought for a moment and then scooped Roger up in his arms easily before he carried him to the buses before he got on, along with the other band mates.

“Okay, you have a couple days off now, so we’re about to go find a hotel to stay at and you all can wash up. Sit tight for a little bit. We’ll be there as soon as we can,” John Reid announced before him and Jim got off of their bus and got onto their own.

Soon the buses started in motion again and Brian still had the drummer in his arms, realizing he felt a wetness against him and figured that the seizure must have caused the poor man to lose control of himself. He wished now that they had a washer and dryer on the bus.

He made sure that he was blocking Roger to give him some privacy from Freddie and John who both looked equally concerned for the man as he undressed him out of his dirty clothes and put fresh, dry ones on him.

He put the wet ones in a plastic bag, making a mental note to make their managers stop somewhere so they could do laundry. Brian made sure Roger was comfortable as he slept and kissed his temple softly before he walked over to the couch where Freddie and John were both sitting, trying to stay out of Brian’s way of helping Roger.

“How’s he doing?” John asked worriedly.

Brian nodded and sighed tiredly. “He’s all right, I think. He’s sleeping now. I’m just about to ready to join him myself.”

John nodded and seemed to relax as well. Freddie still looked a bit tense before he wrung his hands together anxiously.

“You all right, Fred?” Brian asked, searching his face.

The singer nodded but looked unsure. “T-That was absolutely terrifying, Brian. Is he going to do that from now on, with his seizures?”

When John didn’t speak up, Brian finally did. “I suppose so. It didn’t seem as bad this time around as it did the first one. He fell on the floor the first time… he almost fell tonight! I barely even caught him in time. Jesus, what if I hadn’t caught him in time? He could’ve cracked his head open on the pavement. Shit…” He put his face in his hands.

“But you _were_ there, Brian,” John assured him, placing a hand on the guitarist’s shoulder. “You were there when it mattered. Do you think you can do this, mate?”

The question took Brian by surprise. “Sorry?”

“I _mean_ , Brian… you two are together now. You’re going to have to be able to deal with Roger having seizures on a relatively regular basis. Are you going to be able to handle it, as long as you two are together? Because if you can’t… then you might want to rethink your relationship.”

It was a legit question that the older man knew he had to think about. He had a split second in the hospital when Roger had had his first seizure when he had temporarily thought about running in the other direction, but the funny thing was that this time, as terrified as Brian had been, he had felt his adrenaline kick in.

He hadn’t even considered running in the other direction, and in fact, knew he had to run full force towards Roger, having known when he was going to be dealing with. He knew what he had to do and had been willing to do it, no questions asked. Anyway, even if he broke up with the drummer, what would be the difference? It would be either himself, or the other two bandmates helping Roger through his seizures as long as he lived with them.

Was he going to be able to handle this? Hell yeah he was.

Brian nodded confidently now. “Yes, I’ll be able to handle it. I have to, I want to. I want to be there for Roger, always. I love him… and even if there’s a time he doesn’t love me, I still want to be there to help him.”

John smiled now and even Freddie had wiped away his stray tears and was grinning.

“That’s lovely, darling,” the singer smiled.

Brian chuckled weakly and then stood up. “I’m going to sleep. Don’t stay up too late.”

He rubbed both men’s shoulders in casual affection and walked over to the bunk where Roger was and carefully positioned himself so Roger was on the inside and he wasn’t in danger of falling off again. Brian made sure that the blonde was breathing evenly and only then did he let himself fall asleep.

 

**ꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷ**

“All right, boys!” came Jim’s voice from the doorway of the bus. “We’re here! You can go back to sleep once you find your rooms but you’re forbidden from staying on the bus!” Then a loud knocking.

Freddie groaned but stood up with John who had rolled out of his bunk underneath the singer’s, and both men walked over to Brian who was still sleepy but slowly waking up.

“How’s is he? Any better?”

Brian looked over at Roger, who still seemed to be fast asleep. He yawned before turning his attention back to the two men. “He’s still sleeping. That seizure probably took a lot out of him. I’ll get him along with our clothes. You two grab your own clothes and we’ll be there in a few.”

“Are you sure, darling? We can help, if you need it.”

Brian gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Fred, but it’s really okay. I got it.” He rolled easily off of the bunk and stood upright, rubbing his eyes tiredly before he carefully pulled Roger over towards him.

John and Freddie both grabbed their suitcases of clothes before they left the bus. Brian stuffed his clothes, as well as Roger’s into a backpack and threw it over his shoulders before he lifted Roger into his arms again, being careful not to disturb him, and carried him into the hotel. He was met with Jim who showed him he had a key card to get into one of the rooms and started to lead Brian.

“How’s he doing, Brian?”

The guitarist nodded as he followed the manager into the elevator and watched him press the button for the third floor. “He’s better, I think. Exhausted… he hasn’t said anything last night after the seizure or this morning yet, but I figured I’d just let him do what he feels up to doing.”

Jim nodded in agreement before giving him a reassuring smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but given your relationship with Roger, I figured you’d want to share a room. If that’s going to be an issue, of course, I can –"

“No, Jim. Really, that’s fine. Perfect, actually. Thanks.”

The manager smiled and nodded. “Of course. This way.” He walked out of the elevator when the doors opened and walked out before leading Brian to his room before using the key card and opening the door for them. He held it open so Brian could carry Roger inside before he gently set him on the bed.

“I set it up so all of you have all the fixings, telly, alcohol, nice showers. Help yourselves to whatever you want for room service. I’ve got it all covered.”

Brian felt indebted to Jim Beach. He was the first person who was down to earth enough to be straight but also considerate of the guys, Brian found. John Reid was nice but he was more professional than friendly or went that “extra mile” for them. The guitarist appreciated Jim the most.

“Thank you, Jim,” Brian said sincerely, nodding.

The older man smiled tenderly before he nodded back. “I hope he feels better. Let me know if you need anything. The others are in a room on the left side of you. John and I are on the other side.” He walked out to leave them alone at last but left the key card on the table on his way out.

Brian focused his attention back to Roger. He watched his chest move up and down in a rhythm that calmed Brian. The younger man seemed to be doing okay at the moment so he decided to take this chance to hang up his clothes in the small closet.

When he was done, he decided to crawl back into bed again, feeling tired from being woken up so early. He lay down beside Roger on the double bed and started to gently stroke the younger man’s face. To his surprise, he opened his eyes and gradually focused on his boyfriend’s face.

“H-Hey,” Roger whispered. “What… what time is it?”

Brian didn’t even know. He glanced over at the clock before he looked back at Roger. “About half eight in the morning. Go back to sleep. I’m about to as well.”

“C-Can I have some water? I’m fucking parched.”

Brian nodded and kissed his forehead before he stood up and grabbed a water bottle out of the mini fridge and walked over to him before he lifted up his head to help him drink it. Roger weakly pushed it away when he was done and Brian placed the bottle on the table before he wiped the drummer’s mouth with his sleeve.

“We can talk properly when we wake up again, yeah?” When Roger nodded in agreement, his eyelids already starting to close again, Brian kissed his lips softly. “I love you.”

Roger’s lips curved up in a small smile. “Mm… I love you too, Bri…”

He fell asleep before Brian and the guitarist wrapped his arm around the other man before closing his own eyes and relaxing as he fell asleep again.


	4. panic

**.     .     .**

Brian was still sleeping when he felt fingers through his dark curls. He opened his eyes and smiled to see a very much awake Roger. He rubbed his eyes, willing himself to wake up more.

“How’re you feeling?”

The drummer nodded and then smirked. “I’m bored. I’ve been awake for almost half an hour! I want to do something.”

Brian ran his own hand through Roger’s blonde hair and rolled his eyes. “A whole half hour? Whoa... I’m surprised you’re not going out of your mind!” The sarcasm was thick in his voice. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

Roger shrugged and dropped his hand before he maneuvered his body so his head was laying on Brian’s stomach, the guitarist still caressing his hair lovingly. “You seemed tired. I wanted to let you sleep. Umm… Bri?”

“Yes?”

“Err…” Roger was avoiding the other man’s eyes, perhaps out of embarrassment. “What happened at the end of the show last night? I can’t really remember.”

He wet his lips in thought. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

The drummer tried to think but his memory of last night was fuzzy. “I remember waving goodbye to the audience, but then everything else is a blank. What happened?”

Brian didn’t like to think about it. Everything had seemed to happen in slow motion that it was almost unreal. It made him ill to see Roger in any kind of peril, physical or mental and every time he saw Roger about to have a seizure, he felt his adrenaline kick in, and he ran to him like his heels were on fire.

He traced Roger’s jawline softly. “Well, by the time I ran outside to you, I saw you swaying, and then you were about to fall forward. I hurried over and caught you just in time and lay you down carefully. Freddie and John came out to make sure you were all right. You started seizing but it only lasted a few minutes. Then Jim and John both came over and told us we had to move you onto the bus before everyone else came out and saw us. I changed your clothes, put you in pajamas, and then we slept until we got here.”

Roger’s eyes darted back and forth before he lifted up the front of his pajamas before putting them back down and looking over at him. “You changed my pants?”

Brian gave him a sympathetic shrug. “You wet them during your seizure. I’m not going to let you lay in soiled pants all night.”

Roger bit his lip and sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Perfect. Well… thanks, I guess.”

The older man knew the thoughts that were running through Roger’s head. “Don’t be embarrassed, Rog. From what John’s read, it seems like just something that can happen, but it won’t always. Anyway, it’s not like I haven’t seen little Rog or anything.”

This seemed to ease the younger man a little as he looked over at Brian looking almost offended. “ _Little_ Rog? Excuse me, Brian, but I’d say it’s anything but little, and it resents you talking about it like that!”

The guitarist chuckled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I apologize, Roger. It’s not little.”

“That’s better.”

The two men were quiet for a few minutes, laying together in comfortable silence, until they realized that they could hear Freddie and John arguing in the next room. They looked at each other and tried to listen to see what they were yelling about but they couldn’t tell with the wall between them.

The two men both stood up and walked out into the hallway before Brian knocked on the door to Freddie and John’s room, disappointed that their rooms weren’t adjoining rooms, but maybe that was for the best.

_“See? See, John? That’s probably hotel security coming to tell you how loud you’re being!”_

Roger gave Brian a confused look which was returned as the door opened just in time to hear John’s angry voice.

“– you’re the one who’s yelling!”

“What on earth is going on in here, guys?” Brian asked, starting to get annoyed and not particularly excited at the thought of all of them getting kicked out for causing a disturbance. “What’s the problem?”

“Ask him!” Freddie said, pointing to the younger man.

Roger moved inside the room to get a look at Freddie’s room. Brian motioned with his eyes, slightly shaking his head to try to get an answer as he looked inside.

“Well? John?”

The bassist sighed and threw his arms up in the air. “He’s accusing me of snoring loudly! He said my snoring woke him up which is utter bollocks because I don’t sodding snore!”

“Oh my god! All of this noise is over who is snoring? You’re kidding!” Brian groaned.

Freddie’s eyes widened. “He’s the one making all the noise! I’m a singer, darling. I need my beauty sleep and to rest my vocal chords or else I won’t be good to anyone! I can’t sleep when he’s snoring away!”

Roger chuckled and smirked.

“Are you sure _you’re_ not the one snoring loudly, Freddie?”

Freddie turned to look at him, horrified. “ _Me?_ You’re simply mistaken, Rog. I have never snored in my life.”

“That’s a lie,” Brian sighed.

“What?”

“You just lied! Of course you’ve snored before. I’ve been awake when you’ve been sawing wood after a late night show. Not like any of this actually matters!”

Then they saw a new face standing in the doorway looking rather crossly at them all. “What the bloody hell is going on in here? What’s with all the commotion?” John’s voice lilted, angry voice filled the room.

Hearing the more serious manager’s anger seemed to quiet the boys, as if they had upset their father who had been on the phone moments ago and now didn’t want to look the other man in the eye.

“Well?” John Reid asked a little more impatiently.

“John snores,” Freddie said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Brian, Roger and John all groaned as they looked at Freddie, shaking their heads in disbelief. The guitarist rubbed his head, feeling a headache forming.

“I do _not_ , Freddie!” John leaned over and smacked the singer’s arm. Not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to make him yelp.

John looked like he was about to have a stroke. He looked between all of them. “You may be one of the best-selling rock bands worldwide, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get kicked out of hotels. You don’t have to go anywhere today if you don’t want to, and you can even stay here if you want, but _please_ , try and keep the noise down.”

They all nodded in understanding and watched as John Reid turned around and left down the hall. Brian turned to look at the other men with a pointed look on his face.

“Are you all satisfied now? You’ve made father furious.”

The room was dead silent for a good minute before Roger was the first one to laugh hysterically. The other two men joined in as well and before they knew it, Brian was also chuckling. It was rare for the guitarist to be the one to crack a joke aimed at the managers so when it happened, the men made sure to appreciate the moment.

After the laughter had died down a bit and the men had gotten themselves under control again, Brian smirked. “Seriously though, keep it down, yeah?”

John and Freddie nodded obediently before the singer turned around to look at him. “Oh, how would you all like to have some tea downstairs together, unless you and Rog had other plans?”

Brian glanced over at Roger who shrugged, shaking his head as if to say that he was easy either way. He looked over at Freddie and nodded. “Sure. Just let us shower real quick and we’ll be down.”

“All right, darling. See you down there. Try and not take forever.” Freddie and John who were both already dressed walked past their friends and took the elevator downstairs.

Roger and Brian walked back into their room and Roger stretched out his limbs, feeling a bit stiff from the way he slept last night. Brian watched him and pulled off his shirt. “Care to join me?”

Roger smirked and nodded, taking his shirt off as well and quickly pulled off his pajama bottoms before the two men jumped into the shower together. It had started out innocent enough, both of them taking turns soaping the other up, but then of course they started to get more handsy with each other, which led to the two of them making out and finished with simultaneous happy endings for both band members.

“Freddie isn’t going to be happy we took so long,” Roger noted as he dried himself off and started to get dressed.

Brian chuckled and wrapped an affectionate arm around the younger man before he kissed his temple for several moments before he let him go. “Well, too bad. How many times have we waited for him for practices and band meetings where he showed up late?”

Roger laughed nervously before he shrugged. “Dunno. I’m guessing a lot of times, though.”

Brian nodded, smiling lovingly. “Yes, it was. Anyway, we’re not even close to even, so Fred can just… keep his knickers on and wait for us. Are you just about ready to head down?”

“Yeah,” Roger did up his belt and fixed his hair before he turned to Brian. “Ready.”

The guitarist interlocked fingers with him and walked out of the room before getting into the elevator with him and pressing the bottom floor button. Roger gripped onto the bar in the elevator as it gave an uneasy jolt and started to travel downwards. When Brian looked over at him, he noticed how uncomfortable Roger looked and realized that this was technically the drummer’s first time in an elevator, not having been conscious last night enough to remember it.

He gently squeezed his hand in reassurance. “We’re almost there. It’s okay, Rog.” He saw the other man nod quickly and relax again when they made it to the lobby. The two men retracted their hands at the same time and walked out of the elevator.

They made it to the small café area and instantly saw Freddie and John talking amiably as they sipped their tea. It was as if they had done a complete 180 from earlier, which was just fine with Brian; it was less of a headache to deal with.

They sat down and saw cups sitting in front of them but no steam was coming off of the top.

Brian looked at Freddie. “You invite us for tea and then let us have lukewarm tea? What kind of Englishman are you, Fred?”

The singer scoffed before he lit up a cigarette and took a drag. “It’s not my fault you two decided to shag before tea time.”

Roger nearly choked on his tea upon hearing Freddie’s comment but managed to swallow it.

“Yes, dears, you two are really that predictable. I really couldn’t care less though, of course. Quite the opposite. I’m thrilled you two are shagging. You’re both good for each other.”

Brian was surprised to hear those words coming from the singer, never having heard any of them before in his life. He raised his brows. “Well, thank you, I suppose. I’m glad you’ve come around to the idea of us.”

John looked at him with shock in his eyes. “Hey, I’ve come around too!” He said defensively as he sipped his own tea.

“Yes you have,” Brian agreed, nodding, reluctantly sipping his disappointing tea before he moved it off to the side. “I’m just saying, it took you long enough. Once you realized I wasn’t going to break up with him.”

“Hey, ‘him’ is right here, listening to you two talk about me,” Roger said somewhat resentfully.

Brian gave him an apologetic smile, wanting to reach out to him but was hesitant. He knew it was still a dangerous time to be out and open and even though Freddie had denied it to anyone else who asked, other men seemed to be all over the singer. Brian felt a bit jealous about his confidence to go to gay clubs and hold hands in public with his boyfriends. That just wasn’t the person Brian was, as much as he wished he could be that.

“Anyway,” Roger continued with a slight edge to his voice. “I’d appreciate it if you stop saying Brian and I are shagging in public.”

Freddie chuckled before taking another drag. “Now dear, I’m not sure if you and Brian _are_ shagging in public but if you are, then please keep that to yourselves…”

“Oh Christ, Freddie!” Roger shouted in frustrated, gesticulating with his arms wildly. “You knew what I bloody meant!”

“Hey, calm down!” Brian said in a hushed whisper, motioning with his hands for them to tone it down.

“It’s not my fault that Fred’s being a prick!” Roger suddenly threw his arm to the side and knocked over Brian’s cup onto the table, all four men quickly standing up to avoid getting tea dripped on them. “Shit! I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to –" He started to pick up the cup but Brian gently placed his hand over his nonchalantly.

“It’s fine. Really, Rog. It’s all right,” Brian could feel his heart ache when he saw genuine regret laced in the drummer’s eyes. “Can you go grab some paper towels, please?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah… okay.” He hurried over to the buffet table where the paper towels were and unwound it before he ripped it off. He was about to go over to the table again when he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye and stopped dead in his tracks.

_No. It couldn’t be._

_It was impossible. It couldn’t be him._

Roger swallowed hard and watched as the figure suddenly ran past the door. He was seeing things, right? It couldn’t be him; it couldn’t be Peter. What the fuck was he doing here, if it was him?

Was Peter fucking stalking him? He seemed to have done it back home. Why wouldn’t he be a total psychopath and follow them here?

_Maybe his brain was playing tricks on him. Peter couldn’t possibly be here; that was crazy. Maybe he was actually about to have another seizure._

He waited a moment to see what was going to happen but nothing came, and he then saw John waving frantically for Roger to hurry over to them. He swallowed hard and then did go back over, quickly starting to mop up the mess with the paper towels, his hands trembling.

He was quiet the entire time he cleaned up the mess, feeling like he was only half there with the other men. It wasn’t until he was pulled back to reality when he felt Brian start to guide him outside, but as soon as Roger realized what was going on, he put his heels down and tried to stop him.

As soon as he did this, Brian knew something was wrong and stopped guiding him before he locked eyes with him and felt his stomach drop when he saw the fear in them.

“What’s going on, Rog? What is it?” He placed his hands on the drummer’s arms, worry in his eyes.

Roger was inches away from the door now and when Brian stopped pushing him out, he glanced out, looking for Peter but didn’t see him. He felt a tightness in his chest in panic and he really wasn’t sure why. This bastard had hit him and possibly his own girlfriend, and Roger had felt nothing but rage towards him, but now all he could feel was pure, unadulterated panic hitting him.

Brian saw Roger suddenly gasping for air and looked as if he desperately wanted to say something but couldn’t because he couldn’t breathe. He needed to get him away from curious eyes. He put a casual looking arm around him and started now to guide him past the café and into a stairwell, ignoring concerned looks from Freddie and John as he walked past them with Roger.

Roger paced as he gasped, his face starting to turn pale until he slid against the wall and shut his eyes tightly, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I-I c-can’t… B-Bri!”

The guitarist knelt down in front of Roger and repositioned Roger so he was sitting a little more upright to give his lungs a chance to produce oxygen. “Roger, listen to me, mate. You’re having a panic attack. You’ve had them in the past, yeah? You’re going to be just fine, but you need to help yourself breathe. Hey, look at me, Rog. Open your eyes…”

The blonde forced his eyes open and looked at Brian desperately, tears welling in them in his terror. He shook his head, still wheezing.

Brian took his own cooler hands and placed them on Roger’s cheeks gently and by the look of partial relief in his eyes, it seemed like it felt nice and was helping to ground him. “I’ll breathe with you, all right? Inhale slowly through your nose for five seconds, hold it for four, and then let it out for six. Okay? Five, four, six. Let’s try it… inhale slowly,” he instructed and saw Roger struggling to mimic his actions as Brian breathed in too. He held up five fingers now, and then exhaled. “Good… now let it out for six,”

Roger hadn’t been able to hold it nearly as long as Brian but it seemed like Roger was starting to get his color back a bit.

“Good. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, Rog. Okay, let’s do it again now,” Brian did the breathing exercise again and then the drummer did as well. He smiled as he held his own breath for five for four seconds and then let it out slowly, watching as his significant other did it as well. “Great, Rog… okay, one more time.”

He watched as Roger did it as then reached over and gently thumbed away his fearful tears as they ran down his cheeks. The man’s face was still red but he had managed to unclench his fists now and he was leaning his head against the wall, his body feeling exhausted from the combination of lack of oxygen and the panic.

Brian gently caressed Roger’s hair softly. “Do you think you can tell me why you acted like you did? Why your hands were shaking when you came back to help clean up? And why you didn’t want to go outside so bad?”

Roger thought about these questions but if he was being honest, he didn’t really know himself. He didn’t know why he had felt such panic. He shouldn’t have hesitated in going out there and beating the fucker to a pulp after what he had done.

But then again, if his flashbacks were anything to go by, then he had some confusing history with this man. He had seen himself making out with Peter and touching him affectionately after a couple drinks. It would appear that this man could potentially be his lover or boyfriend. Something wasn’t adding up and it terrified him that now even just thinking he saw him drove him to panic.

“Rog?” Brian pressed gently.

The drummer looked down at his slightly trembling hands and shrugged.

The guitarist bit his lip and thumbed his chin in thought. He sighed softly and gently caressed Roger’s shoulder lovingly. “Talk to me, please,” he pleaded quietly, getting more and more worried about the younger man by the minute. “Tell me what happened…”

He knew he shouldn’t pressing him too hard but he needed to know. He needed to know so he could help Roger avoid whatever it was that had caused him to have the panic attack. Brian felt like he had good intentions, but he waited a few more minutes for Roger to recover still.

It was a good ten more minutes before Roger finally did speak. He looked up at Brian. “I… I don’t know, Bri. I… thought I saw someone and it just… freaked me out.”

This made the older man’s back stiffen and he searched his friend’s eyes. “Who, Rog? Who do you think you saw?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.”

“Even if it is stupid, humor me. Who do you think you saw?”

Roger bit his lip before he sighed heavily and mumbled something under his breath.

“Sorry?”

“Peter, all right? I thought I saw Peter!” Roger answered impatiently.

Brian searched his face to see if the drummer was being serious or sarcastic or something but when he saw how solemn the man was, he shook his head. “Why would he be here? He’s in England. There’s no reason why he would be here, Roger.”

“Maybe the fucker’s stalking me? I don’t know, Bri!”

The idea was so ridiculous that Brian wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Maybe the seizure was somehow making the drummer paranoid. He really didn’t know and suddenly felt at a loss. “You’re safe from him. I don’t think he’s stalking you.”

Roger stood up now and the guitarist mimicked his motion. He looked at the taller man in disbelief. “You don’t believe me,” he said in realization now. “You don’t, do you?”

Brian took a shaky breath, shrugging. “I-I don’t know, Roger. I just… I’m sorry, but I think it’s a case of mistaken identity, to be honest. I love you but… I don’t think you’re right this time.”

“I can’t believe this! Why don’t you believe me?”

Brian thought back to all the times Roger had lied to him to get things he didn’t need, but of course the drummer wouldn’t remember all of that. “You’re under a lot of stress right now, you’re having flashbacks and seizures… I think it’s your brain just working overtime. I think you just need to try and relax today and tomorrow. Try and not think about it.”

Roger’s eyes widened and he scoffed before he pushed past Brian hard. “Yeah, I’ll just get right on that,” he suddenly turned around and looked at Brian with cold eyes. “Oh, while I’m doing that, I’ll also get right on not having any more seizures or flashbacks as well!”

Brian felt his heart ache when he watched Roger storm out of the stairway, leaving the guitarist standing there as alone as he knew the other man felt.


	5. dizzy up the boy

**.    .    .**

Things were tense between Brian and Roger for the majority of the day. The boys ended up staying in the hotel for most of the day in Freddie and John’s room until the evening. They had willingly spent the day watching television and ordering room service and opted to sit on the floor so Freddie was looking over at his band mates with his leg lazily laying across John’s.

“I want to go out,” the singer stated, looking over at Brian and Roger in particular.

“Oh, that’s funny because I was just thinking how much I don’t,” Brian stated with a smirk as he rested his hand on Roger’s thigh; Roger seemed to still be upset with the guitarist but apparently not upset enough to not want to touch him.

“I’m _serious_ , Brian…” Freddie just about whined. “We’ve been coped up inside all day! Let’s go out somewhere! Let’s go to a club.”

Brian felt Roger tensed and saw him the drummer glancing out the wide window of the room. “You and John go ahead. I think we’re both going to stay in tonight.”

John looked at Brian in surprise now. “Who said _I_ want to go out? I’m perfectly content with staying in as well.”

Freddie scoffed dramatically, throwing up his arms in frustration. “You simply can’t be serious, darlings! We only have tonight and tomorrow and then we’re back on the road again for at least three days in a row of shows! Are you telling me that none of you want to blow off some steam? To just… get out and have some fun?”

“We’re perfectly capable of having fun in the hotel, Freddie,” Brian shrugged.

The singer then turned his attention to Roger who was now looking down at the carpet. “You’re awfully quiet Rog. You’re usually the party animal in this group! You’re telling me you don’t wish to go out drinking or… fraternizing?”

Roger thought about telling Freddie and John about seeing Peter, but if Brian didn’t believe him, what made him believe the other two would? He shook his head. “No thanks, Fred. I’m trying to cut back drinking nowadays, and not particularly interesting in fraternizing at the moment.”

“See?” Brian said emphatically. “No one else wants to go. Don’t let us stop you, though. You can go without us.”

The singer stood up. “Maybe I will! I’m going in twenty minutes for anyone who changes their mind.”

The other men watched as Freddie grabbed his going out clothes and made his way to the bathroom before starting the shower. Brian looked over at Roger who was looking back at him with unsure eyes. He knew that look; he’d seen it plenty of times before when the drummer would change his mind about something. This time, though, Roger was looking conflicted, and the guitarist knew why.

“He’s probably not even here, Roger,” he said gently, quietly. “You can go with Freddie if you want to. The odds of him being here, following you, are slim to none. I’m sure you’re not in any danger.”

From the look on his face, it seemed like the younger man believed him. He nodded but he was still looking a bit stubborn, as if he were still upset with Brian or not believing him about Peter actually being here; it was such a contradiction and it frustrated him.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Roger could hear the reluctance in his voice and shook his head. He didn’t want to be a burden to him more than he already was. He didn’t want Brian to think he was a baby either. “I-I can go alone, with Freddie, I mean.”

Brian chewed on his lip, not liking the idea of Roger only being watched by the singer, who he knew would go off on his own at some point during the evening, leaving Roger alone.

John perked his head up now and looked over at Brian, shrugging. “I can go with him, if you like. It’s fine.”

Brian gave the bassist a warm smile. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll go.”

Roger sighed heavily. “I don’t want you to go, Brian!”

The older man looked from his boyfriend over to John again who was smirking.

“It’s fine, really. I don’t mind. I’ll go with Freddie and Rog.”

The truth was that Brian wanted to go with Roger, but he had mentally made other plans. He wanted to get him something nice, something that couples do for each other. He wanted to make it real for the other man, because it was real for him. He just wanted to surprise Roger with it.

“Thanks, Deaky. I can always count on you.”

“So I’ve been told before,” John chuckled, standing up before he started to pick out his clothes to get ready.

Roger also stood up now and started out of the room before going into the room he shared with Brian. He started taking off his day clothes and into his night out ones. Brian had followed him and had sat down on the bed, watching him.

“It’ll be all right, Rog.”

“I know.”

Brian bit his lip. “Make me a promise that if you drink, you’ll only have one, and… same with the cigarettes?”

Roger turned around now and looked at Brian impatiently. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Brian said sternly, nodding before he relaxed again. “You’re just getting over having a seizure from last night! You really shouldn’t be smoking or drinking at all! You’re lucky I’m even letting you have any at all.”

“I feel like I’m dating my grandmum…” Roger huffed as he put on an orange and white open button down shirt.

“Do you remember her?”

“No, but all grannies are the same; they’re all not at any fun, because they’re going to die soon and they’re grumpy and want to spoil everyone else’s fun.”

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious, Rog. Please promise me?” He waited for what felt like hours for Roger to say something, anything, but the man seemed to be in his own world. “Roger!”

His raised voice appeared to have shaken him out of his daydreaming. “Yes, fine! I promise I’ll only have one, all right? Jesus…”

“Thank you! That’s all I wanted to hear!”

Roger went into the bathroom and fixed his hair before he went back out to put his black and white Chuck Taylors on. He bit his lip and then he looked over at Brian with apologetic eyes. “Sorry, about earlier.”

The guitarist shook his head in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it, Rog. You don’t have to apologize to me because you think this is the last time we’re going to see each other, either.”

Roger looked startled now. “H-How did you know I was thinking that?”

Brian shrugged. “I know you. Like I said to you at the hospital: we’ve known each other a pretty long time. Stop worrying, though. Nothing’s going to happen to you. John’s going to be by your side all night, okay?”

Roger nodded and then took a deep breath before he let himself relax and then did something Brian had never seen him do before; he took out all the other cigarettes in the package against for one single cigarette and then shoved it into his jeans, along with his lighter.

Brian would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t proud of Roger for getting rid of temptation in that moment.

Then there was a knock on the door.

“Are you ready, darling?” Freddie called to Roger from the other side of the door.

The blonde looked over at Brian before he suddenly went over to him and kissed his lips. Brian was taken aback at first, but then returned his kiss softly and then playfully pushed him away.

“Go on, now. Go have fun, love.”

Roger gave him a small smile and nodded before he finally hurried out of the room, feeling both excitement and nervousness fill him up as he followed the other two men out of the hotel and into a cab.

The cab drove them twenty minutes away to Pearl Street Night Club and when they all got out of the cab, John sighed and looked at Freddie.

“How is it you know every gay club wherever we go?” There was a combination of both awe and disbelief in his voice.

Freddie turned to look at him. “I’ve been living this way for quite a while, dear, I know every gay club within thirty miles wherever we are when we’re on tour. I practically have them memorized by now. Come on, don’t think too hard about it, Deaky. Just try and have fun.”

John looked over at Roger and gave him a reassuring smile but when he saw it wasn’t returned, he searched the drummer’s face after Freddie practically ran inside without them.

“If you don’t want to go in, we can go somewhere else and hang out?” John offered, not wanting Roger to feel pressured.

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Really. I don’t mind going in. I honestly don’t care what kind of club it is as long as I can drink and smoke in it.”

John gave him a worrying look now but then led the two of them inside, gently grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him through the crowd of people in the dimly lit room. He figured it was probably this dark for a reason, but he didn’t really want to think about that.

Roger was grateful when he felt John pulling him, knowing he’d get lost for sure if it wasn’t for the bassist. They went over to the bar and ordered two pints, since they were going to get a cab home later. Roger started drinking rather quickly when he received his lager, eager to relax.

He found himself looking around cautiously, maybe too cautiously. He felt safe with John as the smaller man made sure he stuck close to him as they got a booth to sit in. Roger had to be honest; the more he drank and smoked (just the one each though!), he had the urge to get up and dance, the high-energy music making his heart pound in the best way.

“I have to use the gents. Will you be all right for a few minutes?” John asked, scooting out of the booth.

Roger nodded surely. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m fine here.” He watched as John smiled and then made his way through the people towards the bathrooms. He drank half of his first and only drink and finished his one cigarette rather quickly and then decided it was time to dance.

He stood up and made his way to a spot that looked inviting before he let his body sway to the music. He felt the music pulsating throughout his entire body, and he felt invincible. It was such a great feeling and wondered if he had ever felt it before.

After about ten minutes of dancing, he made his way back to his booth and saw that John still wasn’t back yet. He looked around for the younger man and finally saw him standing at the bar, looking like he was impatiently waiting for another pint.

Roger went back and sat down again before he took a long drink, finishing it off.  He suddenly felt drowsy, dizzy. He felt like he had just drank four drinks in a row instead of just half of one. He stood up and dizziness started taking him over, before nausea.

_Fuck. What was happening to him? Was he having another seizure?_

He needed to get to John fast. He needed to get out of here. Roger was trying to make his way through the sea of people but his vision started to cloud a bit and soon enough, he felt like he was in a fog and didn’t know where he was going anymore.

His heart started to race in panic again. “John!” He yelled, hoping that the man could hear him over the music. “JOHN!”

It was of no use. He didn’t even turn his head.

Roger suddenly felt someone start guiding him. “Here, let me help you, mate.” The person started to lead him somewhere, somewhere away from the music. In another room perhaps?

_Wait. He knew that voice._

“Roger, I’ve waited so long to have you to myself. Everyone just keeps getting in the way… I never had an opportunity to talk to you alone. It really is quite a shame. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

_No. It couldn’t be. No no no no no._

“P-Peter…?”

There was a sick chuckle in the room and Roger felt lips on his skin, sucking on his neck _hard_ , like some kind of vampire. He tried to push him away, but his limbs felt so weak.

“Of course it’s me, pretty boy. Don’t you remember our night at the bar? Granted, we both have a few drinks, but we were really hitting it off. We had good chemistry, Roger.”

Roger felt his mind clouding and then he felt hands on his belt, quickly undoing it. He yelled loudly, hoping someone on the other side of the door could hear him, but he was only met with a painful hit to his face and hands grabbing his arms roughly.

“Shut up, Roger. I was hoping not to do it this way, but you just had to be difficult, didn’t you?”

Then, out of nowhere, memories. A flashback through the fog.

_Peter had followed him to the restrooms of the club and pulled him into a private room that led outside. He could taste his kiss on his tongue; cigarettes and whiskey._

_He had kissed him back, but then had stopped, wanting to go back out to his friends. Peter pulled him back towards him, nearly slamming him against the wall hard before he started undoing his belt._

_“Now, Roger… no need to be so difficult…”_

_He shoved him away hard, suddenly feeling rage take him over. He wasn’t going to be forced into something he didn’t feel ready for. Peter didn’t want to stop._

_The drummer felt his hands shaking as his adrenaline kicked in and he did something he hadn’t wanted to do: he punched him, and it had been enough to get himself away._

Roger felt himself slowly come back to the present and by now, he felt the painful sucking on his shoulders before feeling Peter run his fingernails down his back, surely causing him to bleed. He groaned in pain and weakly tried to push him away, just like he had in his flashback.

He had tears in his eyes and he wasn’t entirely sure why except because of panic. He was in the room with a potential rapist and he couldn’t even fight back this time.

“Stop it!” Peter yelled, grabbing Roger’s forearms crudely. “Stop fighting this. You know you want it! You’ve wanted this for so long. I know you have, Roger.”

_Did he want it?_

His thoughts were twisted and snarled, unsure what exactly was happening to him. This wasn’t exactly like his other seizures, but maybe this was a different kind of seizure this time.

“H-Help…” he said weakly. “Help me!” He felt for the door and he had made it to the knob when he felt hands start to pull down his pants.

_No. He didn’t care how tired he felt right now; he needed to get away from this psychopath. He needed to._

Roger jumped in surprise when this happened and realized that Peter was standing behind him. He felt his instincts kick in and he brought his head back as quick as it would allow him. He heard a satisfying _crunch_ noise when he hit Peter’s nose, hearing it break.

_Now was the time._

He scrambled quickly out of the room and staggered until he could hear the music getting louder again. “HELP ME!” He screamed, unable to see John anywhere.

His tears were running down his face now and his body was feeling sore all over. He tried to sob as he looked around frantically for John or his table.

“JOHN! JOHN!” he screamed again, terrified that Peter was right behind him.

Then he heard a voice, a voice that made everything feel real. He was fighting against his exhaustion to stay awake.

“Roger? Roger!” John hurried over to him and wrapped his arms around the drummer to keep him standing.

He felt his legs giving out and he felt himself drop to the floor before he started sobbing in fear and terror. Everything felt like an echo in his head, unsure if John was actually here or if he was just hallucinating. He wanted to tell him everything but no words were coming out. Everything was happening so fast and so slow at the same time.

He must have passed out because when he opened his eyes again, he was in the bathroom and Brian was looking at him with terrified eyes.

“R-Rog? Hey, can you hear me?” He felt Brian’s cool hands on his skin now but he found himself recoiling away from the touch.

Brian felt his heart break at his boyfriend recoiling away from him, and it only reinforced his fear that something bad had happened. He looked down to see his belt was also undone, alone with his zipper. He felt sick.

“I-I’m just going to… do your jeans back up, okay?”

Roger faintly nodded, or remembered nodding, and leaned his head against the tiled wall, struggling to stay awake when all he wanted to do was sleep.

Brian took a shaky breath and looked over at John. “Where’s Fred?”

He saw the bassist shrug and shake his head. “I don’t know. He came inside the club before Roger and I and I don’t think either of us has bumped into him. W-what should we do?”

Brian debated quickly. There wasn’t any time to call Jim Beach or John Reid, and even if they did call them, either of them might want to just tell them off for not watching Roger when he was in an already delicate state.

“Hospital. Help me carry him.” Brian put one arm around his shoulder before John grabbed Roger’s other arm and slung it around his own shoulder.

The two men carried Roger outside before they hailed a cab and took it to the hospital. Once they arrived, the doctors took the drummer quickly, leaving Brian and John in the waiting area with others who obviously recognized them.

He wasn’t so much embarrassed on behalf of the band as he was terrified for Roger. His boyfriend was probably getting tests down or his stomach pumped and he couldn’t even be there for him. It was agonizing for Brian.

He saw John coming back towards him but he didn’t get up from where he sat, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I called their room,” John said softly, referring to the manager’s. “Jim picked up, thankfully. He sounded more worried about Roger than anything else. I told him where we were and what was going on with Roger.”

“What’d he say?” Brian asked tiredly.

John sat down beside him. “He said he’d cancel the next shows until further notice, and he’d see us when we got back.”

Brian nodded, feeling grateful that Miami wasn’t going to rush down here to scold them. “Did he say anything about Freddie, like if he’s back at the hotel?”

John shook his head. “Should we be worried about him too, Brian?”

The guitarist rubbed his eyes. “Let’s just wait, see if he turns up tomorrow or… today, I guess. If he’s not back by noon tomorrow then we’ll worry, but my guess is that he found someone else to go home with.”

John nodded in agreement and the two men sat in silence for about an hour and a half before a doctor came out and walked towards them.

Both men stood up quickly.

“Mr. Taylor’s resting in recovery at the moment. He’s had his stomach pumped and it appears that he was drugged with Rohypnol. He’s most likely going to be sleeping on and off for the next eight to twelve hours with moments of blackouts.”

_Drugged._

“Was… was a-anything else done to him?” Brian asked, searching the doctor’s face.

He shook his head. “We did the usual exams and he seems to be all right. He’s just still a bit groggy since it took so long for him to come to us. He still has a little in his system, but it’ll pass naturally.”

C-Can we see him?”

The doctor looked hesitant but he shrugged. “You can, but I don’t know how much you’re going to get out of him.”

He told him the room number, and Brian and John both hurried to the room before they entered and saw Roger looking paler than ever, laid up in bed again.

Brian sat down next to the bed and took Roger’s hand in his left one while he buried his face with the other one. He never wanted to see him back in a hospital again, but here they were. He was grateful that no one had taken advantage of him, and it was damn lucky, all things considering; he had thought the worst seeing Roger’s belt undone.

Could it have been possible that Peter was here? Could Peter had done this after all? It was a ridiculous thought to think about, but he had to humor the idea. Maybe Roger had been right this entire time, and Brian had been wrong.

If that was what happened, then it meant Peter really was stalking Roger, and that meant he’d continue to follow them wherever they went. What if he tried again?

Brian felt sick. He hadn’t believed Roger. He hadn’t believed him when Roger had said he had seen Peter, and then he was drugged.

“This isn’t your fault, Brian,” John spoke gently now, as if he knew what was going on in the guitarist’s head.

Brian forced himself to look up at him. He felt an unknown anger building up inside of him. “W-Where were you? Where were you when he was being drugged?”

John’s face flooded with guilt now. “I-I was… at the bar, waiting to get served.”

Brian shook his head. He couldn’t blame John for this, even though he _had_ trusted him with Roger. It was impossible to be there every second when he knew that the blonde had a mind and will of his own. There was no controlling him. Roger was going to do what he wanted, no matter what.

“Sorry, John. I’m just… frustrated. I don’t really blame you.”

The bassist nodded but he could tell that John still felt hurt and he grew quiet.

Brian watched Roger sleep, the steady beeping of the heart monitor the only thing keeping him from going insane right now. Roger was alive still, and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** I know that Rohypnol actually can make victims unable to cry out for help, but I'm using my creative license to make an exception in this case for the sake of future plot, so know that I did it on purpose and that I actually did do research on it


	6. fire & hire

**.     .     .**

 

Brian watched Roger sleep on and off all night, and then through the morning into the early afternoon, the drummer tossing and turning restlessly until he finally woke up for good around one-thirty.

He opened his eyes and looked around as he lay on his side, already knowing automatically where he was, having been in a hospital so much in the past month. Automatically, he felt pain in his body and groaned slightly as he forced himself to sit upright and looked over to see Brian leaning against the chair, his head down and his eyes closed.

He felt startled and his eyes darted around. He tried to remember what happened last night but there was a big, dark blank spot in his mind and panic started to form in his chest. “B-Bri? Brian? B-Brian!”

The guitarist woke up instantly at the sound of panic in Roger’s voice and he moved forward but hesitated to touch him, remembering what happened the last thing he had. He didn’t want to startle him. “Hey… you’re all right. I’m right here. You’re safe, Rog.”

Roger swallowed hard and realized his throat hurt and his voice had sounded raspy. He looked at Brian with fearful, questioning eyes, his panic increasing as he started to try to pull out the IVs that were attached to him like some kind of puppet.

Brian broke his own rule now and quickly reached out to stop Roger from tearing out the cords. “No, no, Roger! You can’t do that. You have to leave them alone. You’re safe, I promise.”

The drummer stopped when he felt Brian’s hands on his own and he gasped, trying to pull away from him but he also didn’t understand at the same time why he was doing that. He looked apologetically at Brian and looked at him in terror.

“W-What the fuck happened l-last night? I can’t… I-I can’t remember anything!”

Brian chewed on his bottom lip and retracted his hands, moving them up to show Roger he wasn’t going to touch him again. He had been afraid of his answer. “What was the last thing you remember?” He asked gently, having a sense of déjà vu.

Roger took a moment, frantically trying to think back. “I-I was with Deaky, in a club. We had just gotten drinks and then he left to use the loo.”

The older man had suspected that’d be the last thing he would remember from the previous night’s events. “I… wish I could help you, Roger. You… didn’t tell anyone what happened to you, but… we found you with your jeans down a bit and your belt undone –"

Roger hugged his arms around himself now, cringing when he felt pain and saw he had large, dark blueish bruises all over his arms. “Oh fuck… d-did… did I…?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it and he already felt tears filling his eyes.

“No!” Brian shook his head reassuringly, wishing more than anything he could reach out and place a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s hand. “No, you were checked out. Whoever attacked you didn’t make it that far, luckily. They had to pump your stomach though, and… they found a date rape drug in your system,” when Roger didn’t say anything, trying to take all of this in, Brian continued talking. “Umm… John found you and he got to a phone and called me. I tried talking to you but… you were practically catatonic. You didn’t say anything to me, but… you looked so scared.”

Roger’s brows knitted and he swallowed hard. He wanted to believe that ignorance of not remembering any of this was bliss, but the panic reminded him otherwise. He could _feel_ that something absolutely terrifying had happened to him, and it didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember it; he _felt_ it. The deep handprint bruises on his arms were also evidence of that, and then he remembered back in the hotel café.

“P-Peter. Peter’s here!” Roger yelled, but it came out more hoarse than forceful. “H-He’s here, it had to be him! He had to be the o-one that attacked me!”

“Hey, hey,” Brian cooed, shaking his head. “You need to try to rest your voice, Rog. You can’t be yelling like that. You’ll only make it worse, all right?”

Roger shook his head, feeling panic and adrenaline and fear all mixing together in a giant chemical bomb and he actually did rip out the IV in his hand and his nose and he tried to get up but he felt his body fall downwards instantly. Brian had easily caught him though and held him close to stop him from doing any more damage to himself.

He knew this was a mistake though because he heard Roger yelp and scream, pushing the guitarist away feebly. A few moments later, a male nurse and a female one came in and helped Roger back into bed before giving him a shot of a sedative, making the blonde eventually collapse against the bed and fall asleep.

Watching the scene unfold broke Brian’s heart and he wished that it hadn’t come to that. It hurt more to watch this than to watch Roger push him away. Brian ran a hand over his face and sat back down in the chair again, vowing not to leave him for anything. He wanted to be here when Roger woke up again, even if he didn’t want Brian there.

He watched him for about an hour before he heard footsteps and then saw John and Freddie timidly come inside the room.

“How is he?” Freddie walked further inside and sat down in another chair at the foot of the bed and watched as John did the same.

Brian shrugged, shaking his head. “He’s… petrified, Freddie. Anytime I try to touch him, he flips out and tries to get away from me. I don’t know how to help him.”

Freddie gave him a weak smile. “You _are_ helping him, darling, just by being here. You’re doing as much as you can at the moment. Try and not to be too hard on yourself.”

“I know, but it’s difficult,” the guitarist sighed. “Look at him, mate. I think he’s worse now than he was before. This tour isn’t doing him any favors.”

Freddie nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right, darling. We should cancel the remaining tour and continue it another time. Even with the few shows we did do, we have enough for rent for the next several months. We can figure out what to do later.”

The thought had crossed his mind. Maybe that was the right thing to do. Postpone the rest of the tour until a later date, but what if nothing changed? What if Roger was still like this? He didn’t want to think about the possibility but the drummer had gone through something potentially traumatic that none of them seemed to know much about. Who knows how long this could affect him?

“John?” Brian asked now. “What do you think?”

The younger man looked surprised that Brian had decided to even speak to him. He shifted his weight in his seat and cleared his throat. “I… don’t know, honestly. Reid won’t like this, any of it. He might even drop us. I’m really worried about Roger, though. If he won’t let you touch him, that’s not a good sign.”

“Nothing happened, though,” Brian attempted to correct him.

Freddie’s eyebrows rose at his friend’s comment. “He wasn’t _raped_ , but… I wouldn’t say that nothing happened, darling. I mean, look at his arms. Obviously _something_ happened. Did he remember anything?”

Brian sighed, nodding, knowing that the singer was right. “He said the last thing he remembered was sitting down in a booth with drinks, and then John went to the loo.” He glanced over at the bassist who was looking even guiltier than a person possibly could in their lifetime.

As much as a part of him wanted to, he didn’t blame John for what had happened to Roger. He couldn’t. It could’ve happened with any of them. It was so easy to get split up in a club, and he loved the drummer; he’d take a bullet for him in a heartbeat, but he knew the younger man probably wasn’t smart enough to know not to leave his drink unattended.

He’s known him since their first year at their separate universities, about eight years ago. He could see the scene unfold in his head: Roger wanting to dance, drink, or smoke somewhere else, and not thinking twice about leaving his drink behind, and then coming back to it afterwards, taking a drink.

Freddie looked back at Roger who looked ten years younger lying in the hospital bed, only now noticing the faint trickle of blood that was running out of his nose and out of the back of his hands. He stood up and grabbed a tissue and folded it, dipping a part of it in the glass of water nearby before he started cleaning up the small amount of blood.

“What happened here?”

Brian leaned back in his chair. “He panicked and started ripping everything out.”

John suddenly stood up without warning, almost knocking his chair over, and hurried out of the room. Brian was so surprised by this that he almost didn’t process it happening. John rarely ever got this upset. He was about to break his vow.

“F-Freddie, can you stay here with Roger a minute?”

“Of course, darling. Go on after him,” the singer nodded.

Brian hurried after the bassist, leaving the room to see John standing in the hallway outside the room, sobbing into his hands. He felt his heart break. He placed a gentle hand on John’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong? I know Roger looks pretty bad right now but he’ll come through this. I know he will.”

John shook his head, his back still facing Brian. “Y-You were to blame me! This is all my fucking fault. I-I had promised I wouldn’t leave him! And look what happened!”

Brian sighed to himself, knowing that he had put the blame in John’s head last night. He had done this to him. He gently turned the other man around and wrapped his arms around him, unsure if this was Brian needing this as much as the other man did as well. He held him close, letting John sob into his chest.

“This isn’t your fault, John.  I believe it would’ve happened if it had been me or Freddie there instead of you. It’s not really like you can take Roger to the loo with you, can you? You can’t watch him all of the time, and you shouldn’t have to. He’s an adult, but… you and I both know he doesn’t necessarily make the best decisions,” he felt John nod into him and then saw the younger man look up at him.

“I still should’ve been there, or… a-at least have told Roger n-not to leave his drink alone. I should’ve done something. Fuck…”

Brian put his hands on John’s shoulders. “I’ve been thinking the same things about myself with Roger’s situation. I keep thinking that I should’ve done something too. It was wrong of me to put all the blame on you, and I really do apologize for making it seem like it’s your fault that Roger got attacked. I was just so angry at the person who did this to him, but I know there’s no excuse for it.”

There was a beat of silence and then John asked the inevitable question, the question that Brian had run through his mind a thousand times.

“Brian, who _did_ do this him?”

He hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, the truth that he now suspected. He had been in complete denial about it but he couldn’t think of anyone else who would do this to Roger, except the man who had undeniably made Roger’s life a living hell for the past month. In the guitarist’s mind, there could simply be no one else.

“I really believe it was Peter…”

“Peter?”

“The guy who had hit him with his car, the guy who he had a fight with in the parking lot when you two had gone to the store, and… the guy he met up with at the club the night of his first accident. Do you remember when he had that panic attack at the hotel? It was because he thought he saw Peter, and it fucking terrified him, John.”

John looked skeptical at first, but then it seemed like he might believe him. “He’s the only guy Roger seems to have a grudge with, at the present moment.”

Brian nodded. “It makes sense, from a logistical standpoint.”

“So he’s stalking him? Why?”

“I’m thinking he did something to piss him off. The night of his accident, his first one, he was really angry, even before the fight that I had with him. Something had happened with him beforehand, but he hasn’t told me. I’m thinking whatever he did to piss off Peter was enough to make the tosser want to stalk him and attack him.”

Just then they heard angry footsteps hurrying over to them, seeing the rage on John Reid’s face and the sheer look of disbelief as he clenched his jaw.

“What the fuck is going on here, then? Didn’t I tell you all to stay out of trouble? Why do you think I told you that?” He didn’t wait for an answer even though John had went to open his mouth. “Because Roger is prone to trouble! Trouble is, in fact, his middle name!”

“John, we can explain –" Brian had started, trying to calm him the manager but then saw him put his hand up.

“No! No.  I don’t want to hear it! You boys are incredible liabilities and I’ve done nothing but pay Roger’s hospital bills for the last month! Do you have any idea how much they’ve totaled up?” Brian and John shook their heads. “Well I’ll tell you! Only about £11,000! That’s just on one of you, alone!”

Brian clenched his jaw, trying to fight the growing urge to yell back at him.

“I tell you to stay out of trouble, and you all find it! I’m actually convinced that Roger isn’t happy unless he causes trouble or ends up in hospital! We haven’t even been on the road for a week and _somehow_ , he’s managed to have another seizure and end up in here again! You need to get him under control –"

Brian couldn’t stop himself any longer and he got in John Reid’s face now. “No, _you_ need to get yourself under control! You don’t even know the hell Roger’s been through and you’re talking as if he asked for this!”

Reid shrugged. “I’m starting to think he did!”

Brian felt his hands shaking in fury and felt his usually calm demeanor and temperament disappear and become replaced with an angry, Roger-like temperament. Before he knew it, he found himself pinning the older man up against the wall but then heard John’s voice.

“No, Brian! You need to let him go…”

He roughly did let go of the man’s shirt and glared back at him as he glared back. “Roger didn’t ask for this!”

John pointed a finger in Brian’s face. “I’ve managed all of you for a very long time, and I’ve thought we’ve become more like family, but I can’t do this anymore. Not when you don’t care about your own public images or getting hurt.”

“Then leave already!” Brian snarled. “Leave. We don’t bloody need you! I don’t even want to see your face again!”

John Reid straightened out his suit before he shot a cold look at Brian and then turned his heel and walked down the hall before disappearing into an elevator. Brian put his arms out and leaned against the wall.

“Goddamn it.”

John looked at him uneasily. “I’ve never seen you so angry before.”

“Sorry, John. I just lost it when he started trashing Roger. I had to say something, and now I blew it. Queen is through.”

“What about Jim?”

Brian sighed, shrugging in frustration. “As soon as John talks to him, he won’t be managing us anymore either. Come on, let’s go back to Roger.”

John nodded and the two men went back into the room where Roger was still sleeping peacefully. When he was like this, it was as if he was the old Roger still, when nothing seriously bad had happened to him. Brian was reminded of a time when the drummer didn’t have seizures, or get hit by cars, or be attacked by stalkers potential ex-boyfriends, or whatever the hell this guy was to Roger.

He was reminded of a time when the worst things the younger man did was get picked up by police for being intoxicated in public, or get into fist fights over women. He wanted to go back to those days, more than anything.

But he knew that might be impossible. Roger was the way he was now, and Brian was aware that he might never be the same person he was, and he had to be all right with that and love him nonetheless.

“Is everything quite all right out there?” Freddie asked in concern as he tucked Roger in with the blankets before looking over at John and Brian. “I could hear yelling.”

Brian sighed before he slumped into the chair again. “I think I fired John Reid.”

“Sorry? You did what, now?”

“He was bad mouthing Roger and I sort of lost it on him. I told him to fuck off.” Freddie glanced over at John for verification and watched him nod.

Freddie moved closer to Brian. “You realize that you’ve killed Queen, don’t you? This is the end for us without a manager!”

The guitarist couldn’t deal with this right now, not when his best friend and lover was lying in bed looking so helpless. “We’ll manage ourselves, Fred. I’m not worried, and you shouldn’t be either.”

The singer looked at him in disbelief before he shook his head. “I need to go smooth things over with Reid.”

When Brian saw Freddie turn to leave, he grabbed his arm firmly. “Don’t bother. If you heard yelling, then you know the things he said about Roger. About us. Do you really want someone like that managing us? Come on, mate. Think about it.”

When he let go of him, he could see the man mulling it around in his mind and then he reluctantly also sat down beside John.

He wasn’t sure when it was, but he felt his eyes close and felt himself drift off to sleep.

 

 

**ꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷ**

Roger didn’t know what time it was when he woke up again but he felt groggy when he opened his eyes and when he looked out the window, he could see the sun was about to come up. He didn’t even know what day it was.

_Shit. How long had he been asleep for?_

He looked over at his friends and saw that Freddie wasn’t there, John was asleep still, and Brian was awake, watching him.

“Good morning, Rog…” Brian said softly, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

The drummer shrugged. “All right. How long have I been asleep for? What day is it?”  He felt like he’d been asleep a week. What he really wanted to do was stretch out and take a walk but he kept it to himself.

 Roger looked at his watch. “You’ve been asleep for about… seventeen hours. It’s half six on a Wednesday morning. How’re you feeling?”

Roger felt like he had a million answers to that but his throat still felt a bit hoarse and he wasn’t sure he felt like talking anymore. He looked down at his slender fingers, yearning to be able to twirl his drumsticks between them again. He wanted to be out of here. He was so sick of hospitals.

Brian grew worried the longer the other man stayed quiet. He glanced over at John to make sure he was still fast asleep and then looked over at his boyfriend again. “I’m really sorry I didn’t believe you, Rog. I am…”

 This made the blonde look over at him, searching Brian’s face carefully. “Y-You believe me now? About Peter being here?”

Brian nodded, swallowing hard. He hadn’t wanted to admit it but it seemed the only plausible reason for Roger’s attack. “Yes, I believe you that he’s here, and that he’s fucking stalking you and he’s the one who attacked you last night. It had to be him. You said you saw him outside the hotel, and then you get jumped? It seems like too much of a coincidence,”

The drummer looked relieved that someone believed him and he closed his eyes for a few moments in respite before he opened them again.

“How’re you feeling, Rog?” He tried again, trying to meet his eyes.

Roger finally looked at him and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Bri. I’m terrified that there’s a large chunk of my memory of the other night that’s missing and I don’t know what he did except… grab me,” he looked down at his slowly healing arms that were a lighter color purple than yesterday afternoon. “I just… wish I knew what he said to me. Why he was doing what he did.”

Brian didn’t know what to say. He felt so horrible for not having been there for Roger when he needed him the most. He gave him a sad smile, nodding as he listened to him. He waited for him to say more but when he didn’t, the guitarist finally spoke.

“I promise he’s not getting anywhere near you again, Roger. I won’t let him hurt you anymore,” the older man promised. He felt himself relax a little when he saw Roger nod in acknowledge, maybe not so much in belief. “It could’ve been a lot worse than what he did, though. Somehow, you were strong enough to get away from him before he did something… really horrible to you.”

Roger nodded again, this time in agreement. He didn’t know how he had managed to escape, but he had. He bit his lip and decided he no longer wanted to talk about this anymore. He didn’t want to think about how Peter was still out there somewhere, waiting for him.

“Let’s talk about something else. What’s been going on since I’ve been asleep? Tell me something.”

Brian thought for a moment and then sighed heavily. “Well… I fired Reid yesterday.”

Roger looked over at him with confusion in his eyes but he didn’t get to ask why because at that moment, there was a knock at the door and then Jim Beach entered, walking over to them with a small smile.

“Morning, Roger,” he greeted. “You’re looking a bit better. How’re you feeling?”

Roger nodded and shrugged.

“Sorry, boys. I don’t mean to barge in like this. I’ve been talking to John and he told me about your row yesterday. I just wanted to make sure that we’re still on good terms together.”

Brian looked up at Jim. “That depends. Do you think what happened to Roger was his fault too or are you on our side?”

Jim gave him a tight smile but the two band mates could tell he was a bit uncomfortable. He shook his head and looked over at the drummer with a serious expression. “I don’t agree with Reid. I don’t think what happened to you is your fault. You were jumped, Roger… and no one ever asks for that.”

“Then we don’t have a quarrel with you, Beach. You’re fine in our book, as long as you don’t mind managing us by yourself,” Brian smiled hopefully.

“Well, as you know my job was to handle all your legal responsibilities but I suppose I can add managing you all to that list as well. I’d be my pleasure, actually.”

Roger gave him a small smile, although he was still a bit confused. Brian nodded appreciatively at Jim. “Good. Thank you.”

Jim nodded back. “Of course. I’ll let you rest again, Roger. I just wanted to come and make sure that you were all right. I’ll come back again later.”

He went to turn away when Brian suddenly thought of something. “Oh, hey. Is Freddie with you too?”

Jim looked back. “No, but I saw him down at the café getting cups of coffee, I believe.” He placed a gentle, fatherly hand on Brian’s shoulder and rubbed it before he left the room.

“What happened yesterday?” Roger asked now. “You fired Reid because he thought I brought all of this shit on myself?”

Brian sighed but kept his patience. “I fired Reid because he was angry that you were back in hospital again, and then he started ranting about how much you were costing him in bills but… I was mostly sick of his shit anyway so… I fired him. We don’t have to worry about him anymore so don’t even think about it. Can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”

Roger nodded and Brian walked over to the table where a glass and a pitcher of water sat and poured it for him. He handed it to Roger and watched as the man drank it thirstily before finishing it. Brian put the glass back on the table and then looked at John.

“I feel bad you all stayed here with me. I might get it if it was the first time I ended up in here but it’s not, and you’ve all stayed here with me the whole time.”

Brian instantly shook his head. “Don’t do that, Rog,” he said lightly. “You’re worth being here for. We all love you, and you mean a lot to all of us. We hate seeing you in here, but only because we worry. You’re not a burden or anything, okay?”

Roger nodded and then was quiet for a while before he spoke again. “How long until I’m out of here?”

“Well… they’re waiting for your blood tests to come back. They did a drug panel on you when you first came in here just to make sure that you didn’t hurt yourself, I think. They were also talking about having you talk to a therapist, and if that’s the case, then you might not be out of here for at least a week.”

Roger scoffed and shook his head. “It’ll come back clean. I had one smoke, and one drink, just like I said I would. Anyway, didn’t they already do a drug… whatever on me and that’s how you found out it was a date rape drug?”

“They pumped your stomach and that’s how they knew it was a date rape drug. They had to take a sample of your blood though, as well for other drugs. They think maybe you were on LSD or ecstasy or something because you were so out of it,” Brian shrugged. “The results of that should be coming back later today.”

Roger felt anger again inside of him and fought the urge to kick the bottom panel of his bed. “As far as a therapist goes, I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to hurt myself. I just want to get out of here!”

“I know,” Brian replied, nodding. “I know you do. We all want you to get out of here too, and I’m going to talk to the doctor and try to get you out of here. They just want to make sure you’re in the right state of mind first. You’ll get out of here soon, I promise. Just… take a deep breath, Rog. Try to relax the best you can.”

Roger chewed on his lip and nodded. “All right,” he ran his hands through his hair. He looked conflicted now but he cleared his throat. “Err… Brian? C-Can you… lay next to me?”

The guitarist was a bit surprised that he suddenly was all right with being close to him but he wasn’t going to question it. He nodded and smiled. “Of course I can, love. Scoot over.”

Roger moved his body over a little and sat upright so Brian could climb on and get situated. Once he had, he felt him wrap his arm around him and then lay down on his side with his head on the older man’s chest and he relaxed, breathing him in.

He curled in close to him and felt himself fall back asleep again, the sedative still making him sleepy. Brian relaxed when he saw Roger fall asleep against him. He stayed awake this time and looked outside, wondering if Peter was still out there or if he was in the hospital now, watching them.


	7. guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Have another chapter because I have no life and writing helps me with depression and my anxiety so you get yet another chapter in less than 24 hours! 
> 
> Woot!

**.    .    .**

Once Roger’s drug panel came back clean later that day and he had a check in with a therapist the next day, the doctor finally gave the OK for the drummer to get dressed and go back to the hotel. The boys had been worried about Roger, but even the blonde had been worried about rescheduling the tour because of him. Jim Beach, however, had rearranged everything so they had two shows, and then two days to rest in between each two days of shows and had shortened the tour so it was no longer a grueling year long; now the tour was only to go until May instead of next September and it appeared to help everyone’s tensions and stress.

The others had gone back to the hotel but Brian had chosen to stay at the hotel with Roger to help him get back. He was hesitant to touch the drummer unless he touched Brian first, so he just passed him his clothes so he could get changed behind the curtain.

Brian didn’t mean to, but his eyes glanced over at Roger through the slit in the curtain at one point and he had felt his heart drop into his stomach when he saw more bruises on the younger man’s body from the struggle against his attacker.

He averted his eyes again, swallowing hard. Then he saw the curtain open and saw Roger step out, looking more frail and tired than he remembered. “Ready to leave?”

Roger was looking nervous but he nodded and slipped his sunglasses on to perhaps give him courage in anonymity. Brian was uneasy with the man’s silence but he led him out of the hospital and quickly found them a cab before directing it where to go.

He looked over at Roger whose hand was shaking and sighed to himself, knowing he probably shouldn’t do what he was about to do but it hurt him to see Roger in so much pain. He took out the package of Roger’s cigarettes he had been holding onto and handed one to him before also handing him the lighter.

The drummer looked at Brian but he couldn’t see his eyes so he couldn’t tell what was in his head, and Roger didn’t tell him. Instead, he took the cigarette from him and placed it between his lips before taking the lighter and lighting the end of it. He took a long drag from it and his body seemed to relax. Brian imagined he was grateful for it, but he couldn’t tell.

He let the silence reign until they made it back to the hotel and then led them back to their room and before Freddie and John could intrude, he locked the door behind them. He turned to look at Roger.

“You haven’t said a word since the hospital. Talk to me, please?”

Roger shook his head and shrugged, sitting on the bed and took another drag of his quickly deteriorating cigarette.

Brian was growing wearier with every minute Roger kept his silence. He reached over and gently took Roger’s sunglasses off of his nose, Roger’s sudden flinching not going unnoticed by him. It was curious how the drummer couldn’t remember being attacked by Peter, but he still flinched whenever someone came too close to him since the incident.

He set the glasses on the table and searched his face desperately. “You’re really scaring me here, Rog. Please… say something. Anything,” begged Brian.

Roger finished his cigarette and reached over to put his cigarette out in the ashtray. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to Brian or anyone right now. He was still attempting to work out everything in his head and the terror he was feeling paralyzing him; it made him want to curl up in bed and hide away forever.

“I don’t want to talk, Bri,” Roger said quietly.

“I know you don’t, but you need to. You can’t keep it bottled up inside of you, love. You need to talk to someone. You should’ve talked to the therapist.”

“I don’t need to talk to her. I don’t need to talk to anyone. Can’t we just… forget about it and move on? When’s our next show?”

Brian sighed inwardly, shaking his head. “Jim extended our stay here so we go back on the bus tomorrow afternoon, and then our show is the next night. I know you want to forget what happened but… even if you can’t remember everything, it’ll still do you some good to talk about it. I mean, how are you, Rog? How are you feeling?”

Roger started to get annoyed with Brian continuing to bring the subject back to him that he couldn’t hide it anymore. He looked up at him. “I’m scared, all right? I’m fucking scared that Peter’s going to jump me again. He’s probably hiding in here right now!”

He was scared but he was also angry, not so much angry at Brian, but at Peter. He stood up suddenly and started to sling doors open so hard that the doors hit the walls with a loud _thud_. The whole time he was doing this, Roger felt adrenaline pumping through him as if Peter might be behind one of the doors.

“PETER! COME OUT!” Roger started to yell, his heart racing in his chest. “You’re probably behind this door!” He opened the closet door hard, nearly ripping it off the hinges.

“Roger…” Brian tried to calm him, reaching out to catch his arm but every time he tried, Roger moved it in time. “Roger!”

His heart broke for the younger man as he watched him frantically going around opening the doors in the room and then saw tears running down his face. He hurried over to him and then wrapped his arms around Roger tightly to stop him.

“Roger! Stop! Stop, Rog!” The younger man thrashed against him at first but then suddenly broke down in tears and let Brian hold him against him. At this point they were both on the floor and he was gently rocking them back and forth in a comforting motion. “Peter’s not in here, love. He’s not… I promise. I promise.”

Roger seemed to sink against him, the fight all gone out of him now. “H-He’s going t-to find me again… he w-will. He’ll find me a-and he’ll h-hurt me again.”

Brian felt like he could cry now. He had promised Roger before that Peter wouldn’t hurt him, and then he had. He had let Roger down. All the guitarist could do was hold him close and shake his head against Roger’s shoulder.

“Shhh… he won’t. I swear to god he won’t hurt you again.”

He held him like that for about forty-five minutes until he heard Roger sniffle, letting Brian know that he was still awake and present mentally. He kissed Roger’s head and then lingered there before he let him go, mentally kicking himself for having held him so tightly when he knew that he had pretty bad bruises.

He gently let him go. “Do you think you can manage to go shower on your own? Or do you want me to come with too?”

Roger shook his head before he pushed himself up off the floor, rubbing his eyes but then looked at him. “C-Can you just… check for me?”

Brian didn’t need to ask what he had to check for and instead, he smiled lovingly before he nodded and walked into the bathroom, checking behind the shower curtain, the door, anywhere anyone could possibly hide and strangely felt a piece of mind himself by doing so. He walked back out.

“No sign of anyone. It’s safe for you.”

Roger nodded, his eyes looking gratefully at Brian before he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

This was his life now; having Brian check for monsters behind doors. He felt so pathetic but he had to admit that it did help him to have him do so. He pulled his clothes off and turned the shower on before he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost felt sick.

The dark bruises from a few days ago were turning a lighter, healthier shade now, but he now noticed large red marks around his neck and upper back. He moved closer to the mirror to examine himself and then felt another flashback hit him:

_Flashes of the club and then a dark, private room._

_Peter sucking on his skin painfully. God, he could feel him biting and sucking on his skin now._

_Then, hands groping his body and fumbling with his belt. Fuck, he felt sick._

_He then saw himself reverse head butting Peter and breaking his nose before he ran out of the room with his belt undone and his pants half off._

Then he was brought back to the present again and he was leaning against the sink, his head resting on the mirror in front of him. He blinked several times before he tried to get a grip of himself as the panic began to creep back in again.

He took a deep breath and let it out, getting into the shower before he had a chance to completely lose it again. He let the hot water pelt his body and scrubbed at his skin, making sure he was clean everywhere as he imagined Peter’s hands running over his skin and making him dirty.

While he was in the shower, Brian was trying to tidy up their room and make it cozier for Roger when he heard a knock at the door. He walked over and opened it and saw Freddie and John standing there, peering in.

“What’s up?”

“You tell us, darling. We heard Roger in here yelling and slamming doors. Did Miami stop by to give you a firm talking to yet?”

Brian shook his head and then looked apologetic. “He was just scared and angry. I calmed him down though and he seems to be all right for now.”

“Where is he?” John asked, looking around behind Brian.

“He’s showering. Do you want to come in and say hello to him?”

The men looked a bit hesitant but it was Freddie who gave a small smile and shook his head. “No, it’s quite all right. We’ll stop by later. John and I are going out to blow off some steam.”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Roger just came back from being attacked by a psychopath who’s still walking around out there somewhere, stalking us, and you two want to go clubbing again? You’re not serious…”

John was looking a bit guilty now and he bit his lip, but Freddie wasn’t backing down. “You said it yourself, Roger’s doing all right. If he was still in hospital, I might rethink going out, but we have a show in a couple nights and I’d like to have my last hoorah, if that’s quite all right with you, Brian.”

The guitarist couldn’t help but be a bit miffed. “Roger’s just had a breakdown but sure, go ahead and go clubbing, guys.”

“Brian,” John said apologetically, but then didn’t know what else to say.

“No, John. It’s fine, really. Go have fun. One of us should! Freddie, look at me,” Brian said seriously and didn’t talk again until he knew he had the singer’s attention. “You stay with John, all night long tonight. Don’t go off on your own for one second, and that goes for you too. I want you both to stay in each other’s sight the entire time. Don’t leave your drinks unattended, for any amount of time.”

Brian’s warnings made Freddie and John both tense up now and look worriedly at him.

“You think Peter’s here… you think he’d attack us too?” Freddie asked.

Brian nodded. “He _is_ here, and yes, I do think he’d attack all of us. I know that he jumped Rog, but I think he’d do it to any of us. Just… watch each other tonight, yeah? I’m serious. I don’t want anyone else to end up in hospital.”

Both men nodded and then headed to the elevator. Brian couldn’t help but worry about the two of them. He worried about any of them, but he knew what Peter was capable of and it terrified him. He wanted to report this to the police, but from everything that Freddie had told him, the police always turned a blind eye when it came to gay people and happenings inside of gay clubs.

He felt like he’d just be laughed at, and be told that Roger needed to ‘man up’ or something idiotic like that. It wasn’t a good time to be reporting these things to the police.

He closed and locked the door again before he gently knocked on the bathroom door. “Rog? Everything all right in there? Do you need help with anything?”

The door slowly opened and Roger came out with his towel around his waist and he looked ashamed and embarrassed as he looked at Brian.

“Are you okay?” The older man asked gently, searching his face. “What’s wrong?” He was searching Roger’s body frantically, wondering if he was actually hurt where he couldn’t see, and maybe the doctors didn’t even bother to check him.

The drummer wrapped his slender arms around his body weakly before he turned the side of his body that had all the marks on his skin towards Brian. “H-He fucking m-marked me… I’m… disgusting.”

Brian shook his head and walked over to him before he examined the hickeys on Roger’s body. “They’ll disappear soon… and you’re not disgusting in the least, Rog. _He_ is. Peter’s disgusting, what he did to you.”

Roger nodded, trying to believe Brian’s words. “I-I remember.”

The taller man looked at him in surprise. “You… remember? What do you remember?”

“About the other night, at the club. I remember what he did to me,” he spoke now, searching Brian’s face and then looking back down at his arms. He walked over to where his clothes were in his knapsack and rummaged in it for underwear and pajama bottoms and put both on before he looked back at his friend. “Umm… can I… tell you about it?”

Brian nodded, trying his best not to look too eager, and then had an afterthought. “Yeah… did you want the others here for this too?”

Roger shook his head quickly. “N-No, just you.”

“All right,” Brian walked over to the bed and watched as Roger sat down as well next to him before taking the older man’s fingers and interlocking them with his own. Brian smiled to himself and gently squeezed affectionately to let him know he was right here. “Take your time.”

Roger only took a couple minutes to collect his thoughts before he started to talk. “I wanted to dance, and John had gone to use the loo,” he recollected. “I got up and I danced for about an hour, and then I went back to my drink, finished it. I started to feel sick, really sick. I… I thought I was having another seizure at first, you know, but… I felt really nauseous and then everything went really blurry and I felt really tired. Umm… I was yelling out for John, but it was so loud in the club, he didn’t hear me. Then I felt someone helping me through the crowd and then I realized he had taken me somewhere away from the music,” Roger paused.

Brian bit his lip, feeling sick just thinking about all of this had gone down and he hadn’t been there for him. He nodded encouragingly. “In your own time, Rog. It’s all right.”

The drummer took a deep breath and nodded, holding Brian’s hand a little tighter now. “I felt him, on my skin… giving me those things. He was saying all this shit to me about how me and him hit it off at the bar the night of my accident, but he never got the chance to be alone with me. Anyway, then he started undoing my belt, and… I-I had another flashback.”

Brian tensed a little now and looked at him. “You had a flashback while he was attacking you? What happened in it?”

Roger wet his lips anxiously but forced himself to look at Brian. “It was of Peter… doing the exact same thing to me the night of the accident. I was trying to push him away but he kept at it, and apparently, I had punched him to get away. Then the flashback ended.”

Things were starting to make sense now, and the guilt was flowing freely through Brian now. Roger had almost been raped that night after having had drank a lot, and instead of helping him or asking if he was okay, Brian had made it all about him and got into a fight. It had been his fault that the drummer had drove home drunk and angry that night, not Roger’s fault.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

Brian fought back the tears that were coming for Roger’s sake. “I’m so sorry, Roger. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you that night when you needed me. I fucked up, really bad.”

Roger swallowed hard before he shook his head. “N-No… that wasn’t your fault, Bri. It was mine…”

Brian shook his head. “No, Rog. It wasn’t. It was mine,” he said knowingly. “I let my emotions get the best of me and I didn’t even know what was happening to you in the next room over. I should’ve been there watching out for you. I shouldn’t have let my jealousy control me like it did.”

Roger shook his head and gently squeezed his hand again but Brian barely felt him there. It was surreal; the realization of knowing with absolution that _he_ had caused the drummer’s accident. He may not have been the one to make him drink the alcohol but he might as well have been. He swallowed hard to stop the vomit that was edging at his throat.

“Stop it, Bri. You can’t let yourself go there,” Roger said forcefully.

“Oh, but it’s fine if you let yourself go there, blaming yourself for what that bastard has been doing to you… no, Rog. I’m sorry, but I won’t let you think that way about yourself.”

The room grew eerily quiet now as Brian started drowning in his own thoughts, dark thoughts. He took a shaky breath and then looked over at Roger who was watching him almost fearfully. He had to stay strong for him. At least for now.

“Come here,” he said gently, wrapping his arms around him and scooting up on the bed. He started to run his fingers through Roger’s damp, clean hair, breathing him in. “Thank you… for telling me what happened that night.”

Roger nodded in acknowledgement against him, the two men probably thinking the same thing: maybe it would’ve been better for Roger to have kept it to himself now. That way, the guilt wouldn’t be festering inside Brian’s head.

But it was too late now, and Brian wondered how he could keep going with this tour now that he knew the truth: that he had been the one to have destroyed Roger’s life and his memory all in one night.


	8. escape

**.     .     .**

 

The men stayed in the hotel room until the following afternoon, and then everyone packed up their things and got back on the bus again to travel the thirteen hours to Chicago. Roger was in the same bunk bed as Brian, curled against his chest as the bus rolled on down the road, but he was awake.

The guitarist held him gently, caressing his hair. He was holding the younger man but in reality, it was actually him that wanted to be held right now. Brian wanted to be told it wasn’t his fault that Roger had lost nearly his whole lifetime of memories, but he felt like it wasn’t true. He wanted to be here for his boyfriend, but he was starting to find it difficult. All he wanted to do was lock himself away somewhere and be alone with his thoughts, but he also knew that wouldn’t be good either.

He was so lost in his own guilt and depression that he didn’t know Roger had even said anything until he looked up at Brian.

“Sorry, love. What did you say?”

Roger bit his lip. “I asked if you think Peter will be at the next place,” he said quietly against Brian’s chest, looking up at him.

That was a thought that he didn’t want to think about in the least because it was just another reminder how he’d let Roger down the most in his time of need. He searched his face. “I don’t know, Roger. Maybe. I hope to god he isn’t but… he seems to have a reputation for turning up everywhere you are.”

Roger scowled. “Thanks, Bri. That really made makes me feel better.”

The older man sighed tiredly. “I’m sorry, Rog, but do you want me to lie to you?”

“Yes, Bri,” the drummer nodded with certainty. “Yes, I _do_ want you to lie to me if it’s not a happy answer. I’m looking for some hope right now. I’m sick and tired of being terrified he’s going to pop out of the shadows again and jump me.”

Brian caressed the younger man’s face now before he leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry. You’re right; I should be giving you hope right now. I’m just… feeling pretty worthless right now, to be honest.”

Roger sat up and glanced over further down the bus where John and Freddie were playing Scrabble. He looked back at him. “Why?”

Brian sat up across from him and looked down at his hands. “Because terrible things keep happening to you, Rog, and I haven’t been able to protect you from any of it, or I’ve been the cause of it.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bri?”

The guitarist took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he had brought it up, so now he _had_ to answer the other man. It wasn’t like Roger didn’t deserve an answer anyway, Brian knew he did. He deserved everything good in this world, but Brian didn’t want to tell him everything just yet. He wanted to keep the particularly heavy stuff inside so it didn’t contaminate Roger like it was contaminating himself.

“Well, so far, Peter has hit you with a car, hit you in a parking lot, drugged you, and almost raped you. Where’ve I been when all of this shit has been going on?”

It was a rhetorical question but Roger decided to answer.

“To be fair, you were technically there when he hit me with the car…” Roger half joked in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, but it failed when Brian remembered that had been his fault too.

“Exactly, I was there, yelling at you and you were following me when you were hit by him! That was my fault, Roger.”

The drummer bit his lip now, sighing. “None of it is your fault, Brian. C’mon… you know it isn’t, right? It wasn’t like you were the one doing those things to me. It was that fucking prick. You’re not him.”

Brian nodded. He knew he wasn’t anything like Peter, but Roger also didn’t understand how he was feeling right now, but it wasn’t like the guitarist was going to dump all his feelings on him right now, especially when Roger was still trying to recover from his attack. He let the conversation drop off and he watched Roger lay back down on his side, hugging his own arms around him.

Brian lay down behind him and wrapped a protective arm around him, holding him close to his body before the two men eventually did fall asleep.

It was a long drive and the men alternated between sleeping, chatting, and playing Scrabble. There was relief all around when the bus finally stopped in front of their next venue at Chicago Stadium. They had a couple hours before the concert but they had to set up and do a sound check beforehand.

The guys got off the bus and walked over to the other one where the few roadies started to haul the equipment off the bus and into the enclosed stadium. Roger looked around at the large building, wondering how the acoustics were going to carry. He shooed the roadie handling his drum kit away and started to set everything up and plug everything in himself, needing something else to do other than stand around and do nothing.

Jim was standing off to the side, talking to the technician people in charge of the concert while the men set their things up and started to test everything out. Brian began to tune his guitar and sat down, glancing over at Roger who looked like he might be feeling better.

God, he was so resilient. He’d been through so much this year alone that he couldn’t fathom going through all of it like he had. Brian suddenly heard Freddie making a scene and he turned his attention over to him.

“What the fuck is going on with this fucking mic?”

John looked over at him as he finished turning his bass. “What’s wrong with it, Fred?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Freddie turned around and put the mic close to his mouth. “I don’t know what’s fucking with it! You tell me, darling! It appears that it isn’t fucking working! How am I supposed to sing and be heard? This is absolutely unacceptable!”

John looked over at Brian, who took it as his cue to stand up and help the singer. He walked over to him and grabbed the mic from him before examining it and then sighed heavily as he turned the mic on with a flick of his thumb before he put it to his own mouth now.

“Check, check. Freddie is a dramatic queen. Check…”

The other men chuckled now as Freddie snatched the mic away from Brian but had a playful smirk on his face. “Thank you, darling. Now kindly fuck off.”

Brian found himself also snickering as he went back over to his guitar. Roger played his own sound check intro he made up to test everything and then relaxed once it was in tune. He sat back and sipped the bottle of water that been sneakily placed there.

He saw people started to file in and his eyes darted around, trying to find Peter in the crowd. The lights above them were now turned on, though, had made that task nearly impossible and instead focused down on his drum kit.

The bruises on his arms had turned to a yellow color now and were nearly gone, and his fear was as well. Unfortunately, he could feel the anger starting to edge back again and it made him feel edgy.

Once the sold out stadium had been filled, they all played well and probably better than they had played in a while. They had gone so long without a show that they were excited to play this show tonight, and it was obvious. Freddie played with the crowd and even teased his fellow band members on stage who played along and good sports about it.

When it was over, Brian felt almost sad. He was sweating but he felt the most alive he had felt in a while. He waved to the crowd and yelled goodnight to them before he led the other men off the stage, still hearing the screaming and cheering of the audience as they headed outside while the roadies began to unplug everything and load it on the other bus.

They had a few minutes to themselves outside so they took their time walking to their bus, enjoying the cool fall air as it helped to stop their sweating momentarily.

“That was fabulous, darlings! Absolutely splendid!” Freddie grinned like a proud father.

John smiled at the singer and then his eyes looked over at Brian who smiled back at him and Roger who even looked in good spirits. It had been a long time when all of them felt this good after a show with nothing bad happening to any of them so it made sense to enjoy the moment.

“Excellent show, guys,” Miami congratulated, giving the band two thumbs up.

“Thank you, dear,” Freddie smiled as he loaded back on the bus.

“Thanks,” John nodded.

Roger boarded without a word, and Brian stopped at the doors of the bus, looking over at the manager reluctantly. “How many more shows until another break? I really don’t want to go back on that bus.”

Jim Beach smiled sympathetically before he gently patted Brian’s shoulder. “I know, but it won’t be too much longer now until we’re back home. I’m thinking… with everything that’s happened to Roger so far, I might cancel the rest of the tour next week, or at least postpone the other half until a later date.”

The words were a relief to his ears, but he felt like it’d be an enormous letdown to their fans, but they had to put themselves first, or else they’d be no use to anyone.

He nodded in agreement. “I think it might be a good idea.”

Miami smiled a bit sadly but nodded as well. “Right, well… I’ll make the arrangements then and after our show in New Orleans next week, we’ll go back home.”

Brian nodded and then finally got on the bus. He was relieved they’d be able to go back home soon, unable to finish the rest of the tour between the way he was feeling and the way he knew Roger was feeling.

They loaded back on the bus and unenthusiastically returned to their bunks. All the men were wiped from performing for three hours, and were grateful when they felt air conditioning hit them as they all lay down in their beds.

“Halloween is next week,” Freddie thought aloud to the others. “What is everyone going to be?”

There was a moment of silence as the men thought about it.

“Dead,” Brian said, and then felt the tenseness in the area where they were all located before then adding, “tired. We have our last show in New Orleans that night.”

He hadn’t even thought about it when he had answered, but there was a part of him that hadn’t wanted to mean tired. He obviously wasn’t going to kill himself on the last show of their tour, though, either. He’d made it through that, but once they were back home, he felt like all bets were off; Brian was tired of being the adult of the group, he was tired of feeling all this guilt just building up inside of him. He wanted Roger’s pain to stop, and the only way he was going to be able to do that would be if he wasn’t around to screw anything up anymore.

He had been so much in his head, that he hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.

“I’m going to be a King!” Freddie announced rather excitedly.

“Why not a queen?” John asked. “That seems more appropriate.”

Freddie chuckled and rolled his eyes even though he knew the bassist couldn’t see him. “Don’t be silly. I’m already a queen, Deaky, and a fabulous one at that.”

John chuckled. “What about you Rog? What are you going to be for Halloween?”

The drummer shrugged but when Brian looked at him, he could tell the man was actually thinking about it. “How about a chimney sweep? That’d be an easy enough costume.”

Brian couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. “Be careful, Rog, or people might actually try to hire you to take care of their chimneys.”

“We can cover him head to toe in ash, and give him a broom. Done,” John spoke as he giggled in amusement.

“Never mind the broom, dear,” Freddie spoke. “He doesn’t even clean the flat. We’ll just cover him in ash. It’d make more sense. He’s always dirty anyway.”

“No, I’m not!” Roger argued. “I showered yesterday!”

Freddie scoffed. “Your mind, dear. Your mind is dirty.”

Roger didn’t seem to have any argument against that so he just shrugged and the conversation gradually died down as each men started to fall asleep, one by one until Brian was the only one still awake.

He sprawled out in his top bunk as Roger lay in his own bunk below him, and he looked outside his small little window at the stars that were hovering over the city as the bus drove by. He concentrated on the twinkling stars and realized how depressing they actually were.

Most of them were either dead or dying already, but he could still see the brightest star in the sky, Sirius, and he couldn’t see it, but he knew there was also the dimmest major star in the sky as well, Shaula, in the constellation of Scorpius. Sirius was, undoubtedly, Roger, and Shaula was himself.

He was Shaula, the dimmest one in the sky, threatening silently to die at any second while Roger continued to thrive on. Brian was a star that wouldn’t ever be remembered even when it did fade out.

 

**ꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷ**

Queen continued their tour, performing in Atlanta, Fort Worth, Houston, Phoenix, and then finally ended up in New Orleans on the afternoon of Halloween on the last day of their tour before they were to head back home.

None of them really dressed up but they did decide to go to a store and pick up feather boas, large top hats, and loud colored outfits to wear at their last show tonight in the area. They even took the time to take pictures and sign autographs with fans that they ran into on the streets, going from store to store looking at the macabre and interesting things people had in their shops.

Peter was nowhere to be seen, luckily, and Roger hadn’t had a run-in with him since the night at the club. Brian didn’t want to jinx anything, but he was glad to not have anything else bad happen to Roger.

It was just getting dark when Brian glanced at his watch. “We should probably start getting set up. It’s almost time.”

The others agreed ad headed back to the buses that were parked outside Preservation Hall. It was a lot smaller venue than they were used to, but it was just fine with Brian that it wouldn’t be as big of a turn out; he’d play his heart out tonight, but he was more than ready to go back home at this point.

They made the roadies stay on the other bus this time and just brought in their instruments by themselves before they set everything up and started to do warm-ups.

“Is your mic working all right, Freddie?” John teased as the other men chuckled.

Freddie turned around with the mic in his hand after making sure it was turned on properly before he started to sing at John: “Kill joy, bad guy…big talking small fry! You're just an old barrow boy, have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye!” At the last lyric of the song, Freddie turned around and smacked his ass with his hand.

Roger was laughing softly and John shook his head but was also laughing good-naturedly before they went back to tuning up. Brian, however, couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the next lyrics of the song.

_Feel good, are you satisfied? Do you feel like… suicide? (I think you should!)_

He sighed heavily. “I hate that song,” he said more to himself than the others but the singer lifted his head and looked over at him when he heard what he said.

“You hate all my songs, darling,” he waved his hand dismissively. 

Brian stiffened before he shook his head, playing with the strings on his guitar as he started to half-heartedly play a Beatles song. “That’s not true. I actually like a lot of your songs, Freddie. That one was actually probably out of character for you, though. The lyrics are just a bit harsh.”

Freddie scoffed. “Oh come now, darling, that was the point. Anyway, you know that prick deserved to have a song written about him. Sheffield screwed us, metaphorically speaking.”

“I know,” Brian acknowledged. “But still, wishing someone to kill themselves is just a bit on the cold side, I think.”

Freddie gave a hum of what Brian deciphered was partial agreement and then the singer didn’t say anything more on the subject and instead started to make sure everything was plugged in properly. Brian walked over to Roger, realizing he hadn’t been much attention to the drummer as he should for considering him a boyfriend.

“Hey, you doing all right?”

The drummer looked up from mid-lighting up his cigarette with a deer in headlights look on his face. “Good. I’m fine, thanks.”

Brian looked at him with apprehensive disapproval when he saw him light the cigarette. “You’re kidding me right now, Rog.”

Roger threw his arms up and growled. “What? It’s my first one in like, a week! Anyway, it’s our last show, right? Consider it a celebratory cigarette, Brian!”

The older man rubbed his temple but just nodded, deciding one cigarette in a week wouldn’t kill him. He walked back over to his place and took a drink of water, feeling his adrenaline kicking in as people started making their way into the smaller venue. The lights weren’t nearly as bad in this one as they had been in the past venues they had played at, thankfully.

The amount of people that were in here reminded Brian of their shows when they were still in university and playing gigs in the smaller places as they were first starting out as Smile. As depressed as Brian felt, he had to admit, it was nice and strangely satisfying to come full circle.

Freddie got the crowd going, and before they knew it, they had played through their entire, extended set list and were packing up a few hours later, the roadies now helping to put the instruments on the bus. The men filed inside and wiped the sweat from their face before they sat down on the couch, all of them taking in copious amounts of water to help rehydrate them.

Freddie had wasted no time in setting up the Scrabble board as the bus pulled out of the parking lot to head for the airport to head back home.

“Who wants to play, then?” he asked, already setting up his and an opposing person’s letter holder.

John shrugged and nodded. “I’ll play.” He was always up for a game "Rog? You want to join us?".

“Sure, Deaky,” Roger nodded, finishing his water and then going into the fridge on board to grab a bottle of beer.

Freddie looked at the older man now expectantly. “Brian? Brian, darling… would you like to play?”

He had spaced out, thinking about other things he’d never talk about aloud. He looked at Freddie and then glanced at the board before he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m going to sit this one out, I think. I’m knackered. Have fun, though.”

“All right, then. Goodnight, darling.”

“Night, Brian,” John smiled softly.

“Goodnight, gentlemen.” Brian made his way over to Roger who was opening the beer up and looked at him fatherly. “That’s going to be your only one tonight, Rog, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know,” Roger agreed, nodding. “Where are you going?”

“Bed. I’m tired.”

“Oh, right. Okay,” he bit his lip a bit anxiously before he grabbed Brian’s hand quickly when he turned to leave. “Are you all right, Bri? You haven’t really been yourself lately.”

The guitarist nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah, fine. I’m just tired.” He saw Roger nod in acknowledgement but didn’t seem entirely convinced. He let him go back to his bunk though, nevertheless.

He hated lying to his boyfriend, but he didn’t want to worry him. Roger hadn’t had a flashback or a seizure in a while and the last thing Brian wanted to do was trigger either one for the drummer by adding to his stress level. He didn’t want to add to his guilt.

He changed into his pajamas and threw himself onto his top bunk before he grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his entire body so it was more like a cocoon.

He let himself drown in the comfort and safety of the blankets before he forced himself to close his eyes and fall asleep, wanting to escape from the reality he was forced to live in where his guilt drowned him instead of blankets.


	9. better off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains strong suicidal ideation and an attempt. Please don't read unless you're feeling safe.

**.     .      .**

Once they caught a plane back to England and brought all their clothes and equipment into their smaller flat in London, the four men wrapped themselves in blankets and collapsed on each other in the living room before they turned the television on and finally relaxed, their limbs all entangled comfortably.

Brian thought his depression would lessen once they got back home, but he could still feel it lingering inside of him, drowning him. He wrapped an arm around Roger as the drummer rested his head on Brian’s chest and gently ran his fingers through the other man’s hair. His guilt deepened as he thought about how he should be feeling grateful for the obvious: Roger still being alive, still being lucky enough to have a career that he could do what he loved to do, being able to pay the rent and have their houses for another few months, having food on the table, having beds to sleep in and a roof over their heads… but he couldn’t feel grateful.

Instead, his depression was only getting worse, and he was trying to figure out ways to make it go away. The logical part of him told him to go see a doctor, or a therapist, but then he realized that he shouldn’t do either, or rather he shouldn’t have to do either. He was Brian May, an astrophysicist, an adult, and perhaps the only adult of the group, he felt sometimes. He fed them, helped them find clothes, and anything else; the rest of the band members might as well be considered his children for all intents and purposes, which should have made him feel like they needed him around and that he needed to stay alive for them.

But he couldn’t feel that way.

_Selfish. Fucking selfish._

It was a lot of pressure for him, too much. He was at his wit’s end. He couldn’t keep doing this for them, or himself.

“Hey,” a whispered voice spoke to him, and he looked down to see Roger looking back up at him with concern in his eyes. “You all right?”

Brian glanced around to see Freddie and John but absorbed in the show and their own conversation to have heard Roger. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

The drummer reached up and gently brushed something away. “You’re crying, Bri. What is it? What’s wrong?” There was obvious fear in his eyes; he’d only seen Brian cry maybe once or twice the whole time he’d known him.

The guitarist hadn’t even known he was crying. He hadn’t felt the wetness on his face. Brian took his palm and wiped away the tears on the other side of his face and sniffled softly before shaking his head.

“I’m all right. Sorry… I think I’m just jet lagged and glad to be home,” he lied. “I’m fine, though. Really.”

Roger looked skeptical and he bit his lip, unconvinced. He started to play with Brian’s shirt affectionately. “Stop worrying about me, Bri. I’m okay. No flashbacks, no seizures… you don’t have to worry about me.”

_If only that was it. At least that would’ve been an unselfish reason to be crying._

Brian gave a small smile and nodded, knowing he needed to end this conversation. “I know. Sorry, Rog. I just can’t help it. It comes with the territory of being with you,” he teased.

This seemed to satisfy the blonde and Roger gave him a loving smile before he kissed him and rested his head on Brian’s chest again. Brian despised himself for lying to him, but he didn’t want to worry him, or any of them with his own bullshit.

He had no right to feel this way, or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. He shouldn’t be such a selfish prick. Roger had it way worse than him and all Brian was doing was worrying him anyway. They’d be much better off without him.

He might be he adult of the group, but he knew that if something were to happen to him, Freddie and John could and would take care of Roger. Over the years they had become more like family than friends, and Brian had even discussed it with the other two men, who had agreed to perform the task. It had put his mind at ease.

The men watched telly until they all agreed they were hungry and one of them would undoubtedly run to the Chinese restaurant around the corner to grab lunch/dinner for them. John had volunteered so Brian stood up and started to get the plates out for the four of them, needing to stretch his legs after having been lying on the couch for so long.

“Can I help you with that, darling?” a kind voice asked as Freddie entered the kitchen to grab glasses.

Brian shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m just about finished up in here. I’m going to go take a quick shower and then I’ll be back out in a bit.”

He went to head towards the hallway when he felt a soft grip on his arm stop him suddenly and Freddie searched his face with the same worrisome eyes that Brian had seen with Roger earlier.

“Is something… wrong, Brian?” He asked quietly as John and Roger hung out and chatted in the living room.

Brian considered for a few brief moments telling the singer everything he was feeling but then changed his mind. Freddie didn’t need any weigh on his shoulders, none of them did. He gave Freddie the same forced smile he had given his boyfriend and shook his head.

“No, I’m fine. I’m just tired, Fred.”

“It’s been a rough couple months,” Freddie noted. “It’s perfectly understandable if you feel like you’re under a lot of stress, with everything that’s happened to Rog. Remember that you’re not alone, all right, dear? You have all of us, and you can talk to us about anything. We all love you, darling.”

Freddie’s words warmed Brian’s heart, and the guitarist undoubtedly felt touched by them, but he didn’t want to completely unload on them. They didn’t deserve that. He gently caressed Freddie’s shoulder and nodded, smiling. “Thank you, Freddie. I appreciate that. Really, I’m just a bit tired, is all.”

The singer looked at Brian disbelievingly but he smiled back and nodded before he started to grab beers out of the fridge.

Brian headed to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes before he hopped into the shower and started to wash up. The problem was once the hot water had kissed his skin, he suddenly started to sob quietly. He felt pathetic; this was something ridiculous that only happened in the movies… this didn’t happen to him. He didn’t cry alone, in the shower. He hugged his arms around his body and leaned against the tile of the shower, hoping it would eventually pass, and when it did, he finished washing up and then got out before he towel dried himself.

_What the hell had that been?_

He ran his hands through his damp mop and took a shaky half-sob breath and looked at his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes looked swollen and red from crying and his body was looking a bit skinnier than usual; he couldn’t really remember the last thing he had eaten anything proper, but he didn’t even feel hungry.

He just wanted to be alone, away from the others, but he couldn’t let himself do that the first day they were back. That might be too obvious. Brian walked out of the bathroom and then headed to his room to get changed but was surprised when he saw Roger standing there with his arms crossed and he was looking like he was roaring for a fight.

“What’s going on, Rog?” Brian attempted to ask innocently as he put on his underwear and then his pajama bottoms before he turned to face the drummer.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What did I do?” Roger asked argumentatively now, taking Brian by surprise.

“Sorry?”

“What’d I do? Why are you so quiet and why’ve you been crying? You’ll talk to Freddie, but not to me.”

Brian shook his head. “I didn’t talk to Freddie. He talked to me. Anyway, I told you before, I’m just tired. It was a long plane flight, Rog. I’m just exhausted. Aren’t you guys?”

Roger shook his head. “That’s bollocks. Tell me what’s going on? Are you breaking up with me or something? Is that why you’re crying? Just tell me what I did and I’ll stop doing it or… if I’m not doing something, then I’ll start! Just talk to me, Bri.”

More guilt flooded the older man. Roger thought this was his fault.

Jesus, he felt like crying all over again. He moved over to Roger and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him closely. He felt the other man loosen his body and wrap his own arms around him weakly. Brian swallowed hard and kissed Roger’s head.

“I’m not breaking up with you, Rog. I promise. You’re perfect; you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” Brian apologized wholeheartedly. “I just want you to keep doing what you’re doing. You’re fine. It’s me that’s fucked up, not you.”

He hadn’t meant for the words to come out but when they did, he found himself feeling a little better. Roger took a step away from him and searched his face.

“What do you mean? You’re not… you’re not fucked up, Bri. What happened?”

The other man took another shaky breath and shook his head. “I-I just mean, that… I’m tired and I took it out on you, and I s-shouldn’t have, yeah? I fucked up, that’s all. It’s nothing to do with you,” he attempted to save face.

“Will you tell me if I do fuck up? I really love you, Bri,” Roger half smiled, looking shyly down at his hands. “I don’t want to fuck anything up between us. I-I don’t… want to lose you or anything.”

Brian shook his head. “You’re never going to lose me, Roger. Never. I love you too.” He pressed his lips against Roger’s and kissed him passionately before reluctantly pulling back away when he heard Freddie’s voice yell from the living room.

“The food’s here, darlings!”

Roger jumped suddenly, slightly startled by the singer’s voice but then relaxed again. “Ready to go get something to eat?”

“I’m not really hungry, actually. I think I might be coming down with something. I feel pretty nauseous. You go eat, and I think I’m going to stay in here and take a nap.”

“Brian, no… come on. Come and eat out there with us. You might feel better if you get something in your stomach.”

_When did Roger sound like the adult in the group and Brian the child?_

Brian gave him a sincere smile but shook his head. “Thank you, Roger, for your concern for me, but really. I just really need to lay down for a bit. I promise it’s not you –"

“It’s not you, it’s me?” Roger finished for him, chuckling in amusement. “Fuck off…”

Brian knew the words actually weren’t meant to sound callous or mean and Roger was even smiling when he said them. “ _You_ fuck off, Rog. This is my room. Now get out.”

He playfully kicked the other man in the ass with his bare foot but the drummer scooted quickly out of the line of fire before he sighed dramatically. “Fine! Fine… I’m going. Hey, can… I sleep in here with you later when it’s time for bed?”

Brian felt his heart melt and he nodded. “Of course you can.”

“All right, thanks.” Roger hurried out now, closing the door behind him.

As soon as he watched him leave, he found tears filling his eyes and blurring his vision. He swallowed back a sob and practically dove into the bed under his comforter and let himself cry. Roger was the best person he knew, and he was going to miss him the most when he was gone.

He hugged his pillow tightly to try and ease the pain he was feeling in his chest as he cried into it. _This was for the best_ , he told himself. This would stop Roger’s pain as well as his own.

He didn’t know how long he had been crying for, but at some point, he had fallen asleep.

  
**ꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷ**  
  


He was woken up the next morning by the feel of Roger kissing him. Barely awake, he thought he was dreaming, but then he felt the man’s lips start to kiss down his spine and he shivered. He turned to look at him, a tired smile on his face.

“You’re awake early… usually you don’t wake up before eleven.”

Roger shrugged in the dim light of the room and smirked. “I missed you. I thought maybe we could have a bit of fun before Deaky and Freddie wake up.” He leaned in and kissed Brian’s shoulder softly.

If Brian didn’t feel so achy and sad as hell, he would’ve taken Roger up on his offer but he shook his head apologetically before he reached up and gently caressed the drummer’s cheek. “Sorry, Rog. I don’t really feel up for it right now. I just want to sleep.”

Roger looked slightly disappointed but he nodded and lay beside him again. “We’re supposed to go to the store today.”

The guitarist groaned. “I just want one day where I don’t have to go anywhere. Why don’t you go with Deaky or Freddie?”

Roger looked slightly hurt. “I want to go with you.”

Brian sighed and rubbed his eyes, filling them well up again. He roughly rubbed the tears away and looked at the younger man. “I told you, I just don’t want to do anything today… please. Go with the others. John will go with you. He doesn’t mind.”

Roger bit his lip and nodded. “I-I know.”

He looked over at him and he could tell what was in his head. “Are you afraid of seeing Peter there again?” He tried to ask as gently as he could, even though his depression was making him feel irrational angry.

Roger nodded silently.

Brian turned to face him and gently played with Roger’s blonde hair. “It’ll be all right. Even if he is back here, I don’t think he’s going to bother you. He hasn’t touched you since that night in the club. He probably doesn’t even know that we’re back. If it makes you feel better, have Freddie take you. At least he can help you in a fight, yeah?”

Roger nodded and looked slightly less worried now. “All right. Can we do something later?”

Brian felt his stomach churn and his heart was racing. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to be here later. Or ever again. He had already made a plan in his head and today was the day he was going to do it. The sooner, the better, and the better off Roger would be.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, Rog. I just want to be alone today.”

The younger man bit his lip but nodded and stood up before he knocked over a nearby stool. “Fine! Fine. I’ll leave. I guess I’ll see you whenever. Or maybe not at all! I’ll just leave you alone for the rest of our lives!”

Brian reluctantly sat up. “Rog! Roger… please!”

It was too late though; Roger slammed the door on his way out. Brian sighed and tried to figure out how he was going to do this. He needed to wait until all the men were out of the house so no one asked him any questions before figuring out what he was about to do.

Then he decided he’s wait. If Freddie and Roger went to the store, then odds were more than likely that John would do, lest he risk having to hang out by himself in the living room. Brian stood up and got changed quietly until he heard a door close about half an hour later and then peeked his head out.

John was nowhere to be seen, as he had predicted. Now was his chance. He could feel his heart racing as he paced for a good twenty minutes, making sure that this was what he wanted. There’d be no going back, obviously.

He took a cab and he told it to go to the tallest bridge in the city because he wanted to ‘sight see.’ The cabbie glanced at him and perhaps didn’t believe him but he also didn’t ask any questions, which was just fine with Brian.

It took about fifteen minutes to get there, he tipped the driver with whatever he had in his wallet and then watched him drive away. Brian walked over towards the bridge and headed where the railings were. He could feel the blood in his body turning to ice, and his heart racing unmercifully inside his chest. He then made his way to the other side of the railings, holding on tightly to them as he did a balancing act on the railings and the supports holding up the bridge.

He glanced down and felt a sick relief when he saw a platform that the supports connected to below him. It looked big enough that he would no doubt hit it when he let go, killing him instantly.

He wanted to ask himself what was wrong with him, but he really felt like this was the right thing to do. This was the option reasonable option right now.

Doing this would protect Roger from him. The drummer would no longer have to worry about car accidents and his friends not being there for him; he knew that Freddie and John would be there for him, and that would be enough. Roger didn’t need Brian ignoring him, forgetting him, not being there when he should’ve been. He’d be safe.

Brian took a shaky breath and felt his eyes fill with tears again at the thought of never seeing Roger or hearing his voice again, but that was when he was proven wrong.

“O-Oh god… BRIAN!”


	10. don't leave me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **this chapter contains a suicide attempt and more talk about seriously hurting oneself as well as some depression talk, so please be careful and aware!**

**.     .     .**

Brian nearly lost his balance when he heard Roger’s frantic voice scream out for him but he somehow managed to hang on, even though he felt like it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if he did lose his balance and fell. He took a shaky breath, feeling tears pierce his eyes.

He hadn’t wanted to be found by them. He hadn’t even considered they would find him here, in time. He thought he’d be long gone before that happened, but here they were and from the looks on their faces, Brian could see the sheer terror on all off them.

Then his heart jumped into his throat when he saw Roger race over to him and started to go over the railing but luckily, Freddie and John had both anticipated this and were close behind him, firmly pulling him away before he could follow Brian over.

“B-Brian! W-What are you d-doing?” Roger asked, terrified as he still struggled against the other men who were holding him back.

The guitarist swallowed hard and looked away from him, feeling like if he saw the horrified look on the drummer’s face any longer, he might change his mind.

“I-I’m really s-sorry, Rog. I-I am,” his voice trembled as he looked down at the concrete support pillar below him. “I-I just… I need to do this, t-to help protect you!”

Roger looked at him in disbelief, as if Brian had suddenly become a Christmas tree. He was speechless, but it was Freddie whose panicked voice could be heard next.

“What the h-hell are you doing about, darling?” Freddie asked, his voice also trembling in fear. “What’s going on? Tell us why you want to do this! We can fix this. We can help you, Brian. Please, let us help you…”

Brian shook his head and when he looked back over at them, he noticed that they were drawing a rather large crowd now and he could already see tomorrow’s headlines: _Queen guitarist climbs bridge in suicide attempt: publicity stunt or mental illness?_

The chill in the air told Brian it was going to start raining soon, and he could feel the wind picking up. His instincts told him to hang on tighter to the railing as his heart raced in his chest, but the other part of him was telling him to let go, and the sooner he was gone, the better off Roger would be. He was at a war with himself.

“This is the only way I can fix this, Freddie,” Brian said with certainty in his voice. “I caused Roger’s accident… it was my fault!”

Roger shoved John away who had been holding him back still and he forced himself in front of Freddie so he could get closer to Brian. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “W-What the fuck are you talking about?! You didn’t cause anything! You weren’t shitfaced and in the driver’s seat, Bri… I was! I-It was my own fault I was in the accident! I chose to drink! I chose to drive home!”

Brian swallowed hard, shaking his head as he started sobbing as he remembered. “Y-You were a-almost raped, Rog, and I just left you there! I should’ve been there for you!”

He could see all the men looking tense, terrified and tears all on streaming down their faces in fear, all of them holding their breath.

Roger shook his head wildly and he knelt down close against the railing, unable to stand as his shaking legs gave out by where the older man was standing. “No! No… y-you _were_ there! You didn’t know what had even happened until I told you, Bri! You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you! We had gotten into a fight and that’s why you left. I know for a fact you would’ve helped me if y-you knew the whole story! I know you would’ve! Please… please don’t leave me here alone. I-I love you! I need you here with me!”

Brian was crying so hard that his vision blurred now and he felt a few droplets of rain mix with his tears. He swallowed hard. “I-I lied to you before about Peter when he hit you with his car… I hurt you w-with all of it… and I caused that accident too! This is for the best, Roger. Believe me.”

Roger was still shaking his head as he cried. “N-No… I don’t believe you! I don’t… he was stalking me and would’ve hit me anyway! Same w-when we were at that other club in the States! He would’ve tried to hurt me again anyway! This isn’t your fault! Please… please… fucking… don’t fucking l-leave me!”

“Brian,” Freddie attempted now, seeing the man on the other side having difficulty hanging on as the rain started to come down harder. “P-Please, dear… please come back over to us. We’ll figure all of this out back at home. Please, we need you. We love you, darling.”

The singer’s desperate voice broke Brian’s heart and he gripped the railing with a white knuckle grip now, his own legs feeling weak as they stood on the single beam holding him up. He believed this would’ve been for the best but they needed him, they had even said so.

Roger stood up now and looked at Brian with steeled, determined eyes now. “I-If you jump, I’m following straight after, Brian.”

The older man felt his blood freeze. “W-What? No… like hell you are. Y-You’re not following me, Rog! You’re just not. I’m doing this to protect you!”

“How?!” Roger yelled now, his terror becoming anger in his distress. “You’re not protecting me! If you jump, then I’m jumping right after! I’m not going to fucking be forced to live without you!”

Brian started crying harder at the thought of Roger dying after he did. The guitarist didn’t believe in a Heaven or Hell, believing that when they died, they simply became a part of the universe, like stars that died and gravitationally collapsed and became nebulas; a part of the universe.

He didn’t want the drummer to follow him, not someone who was so young and had their whole life ahead of them. Roger deserved better. He deserved to live. The worst part was he _knew_ if Brian jumped, then Roger wouldn’t hesitate to jump as well. Even Freddie and John both wouldn’t be able to stop him from doing so.

He was just that kind of person. With the right amount of motivation, Roger Taylor would do anything in a split second without thinking twice about it. He was now thinking twice about going through with his own attempt; he’d be killing Roger by killing himself.

“C-Come on, Brian,” urged John, getting closer to the man and holding his hand out. “Come back o-over, mate. Please.”

The rain was now starting to fall in heavy sheets, the clouds turning grey and dark overhead as the beam under him started to become more slippery. He took a shaky breath and wrapped his arm around the failing before he started to climb back over before he reached out and grabbed Roger and John’s arms in aid before Freddie grabbed his waist to help him back on solid ground again.

They all collapsed on the pavement together, their arms wrapped around Brian in utter relief. The guitarist was a bit surprised to hear the faint sound of their audience clapping over the sound of the rain but then he realized that someone might have called emergency for help for him.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle going to a hospital and being emitted into a psych ward right away. He also didn’t want a bunch of strangers asking him questions. He needed to be with his family right now.

They all helped each other up and made sure Brian was safe before they hailed a cab quickly, all of them eager to get away from growing crowd and out of the rain. There was a heavy silence in the cab as it started to drive them back to their flat, and all of them felt it.

Brian looked down at his guitar-calloused fingers, trying to do anything he could to avoid having to see the fear on the other men’s faces, his dark curls dripping from the rain. He felt immensely uncomfortable, and he still wasn’t completely on board with the idea of chickening out and still being alive, but when he saw Roger lace their fingers together and hold his hand tightly, he oddly felt better.

As soon as they entered the flat, Brian saw Freddie turn to look at him and open his mouth but the older man beat him to the punch, holding up a hand.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, so please, save your breath.”

Roger and John both shed their jackets and turned to look at Freddie and Brian, everyone looking pretty much like exhausted, drenched rats.

“Honestly darling, I don’t give a shit if you don’t want to discuss this, because I feel we need to! We can either do this now or later, but I assure you, Bri… we _are_ discussing this, and the fact you didn’t want to go to a hospital is mildly concerning, I must admit.”

Brian sighed and shook his head. “I’m too mentally exhausted, Freddie. Please… let’s do it later, if you really must. I just want to go lay down, if it’s all the same to you. Does anyone else have an issue with that?” He asked challengingly.

The men all looked at Brian with looks that told him they did have issues with him doing that, but he chose to ignore them and started towards his room before walking inside and changing into dry clothes. Once he was done, he lay on his back on the bed and felt frustrated when he heard a knock at the door.

“I don’t want to talk about it, John, so please… just bugger off,” Brian spoke loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

He was somewhat surprised when the person that opened the door and walked inside and spoke wasn’t actually the bassist.

“We don’t have to talk,” a deeper voice than John’s replied before closing the door behind him. “I just want to be with you. Can I at least do that, after I almost lost you?”

Brian felt his heart break and watched as Roger made his way over to the bed and lay down next to him without waiting for an answer first. He laced his fingers with Brian’s once again, and the guitarist let him, needing to feel him as much as the other man needed to feel him too.

Roger felt warm, despite having been outside moments earlier in the cool rain, and Brian gently squeezed his hand. He felt his heart swell when he felt the younger man squeeze his hand back reassuringly. The two men lay there in a strangely comfortable silence for several minutes, neither of them saying a word until Roger spoke first.

“I’ve… been going through my own shit storm that I didn’t even think about what you were going through, or how you’ve been,” the drummer said apologetically. “I didn’t think any of it was affecting you, or… I didn’t see how it could be, I suppose.”

Brian looked over at him and searched his face. “You don’t owe me anything, Rog. I chose not to tell to how I was feeling because you had enough on your plate. I didn’t want to add to it. I didn’t want to trigger another seizure from the stress of it all. Nothing between any of us happens in a vacuum though, love. What happens to one of us, the rest of us eventually feel affected by it as well. It’s just the way it’s always been between us.”

Roger nodded in understanding and took a shaky breath. As Brian watched Roger watch him, he saw tears filling his eyes again, as if they all hadn’t cried enough already.

“I-I thought I fucking lost you, B-Bri… I really did. When I saw you on that bridge, I w-was already prepared to throw myself off too,” the drummer admitted shakily, turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around himself as he faced Brian.

He felt his heart shatter in a million pieces as he heard the tremor in Roger’s voice. He swallowed hard, trying not to fall to pieces himself, trying to remain strong.

“I’m glad you didn’t throw yourself off, Rog. You didn’t lose me… you aren’t going to lose me.”

Roger bit his lip, unsure. “T-Then why the hell were you on that bridge then? You were completely ready to jump, Bri. I-I couldn’t take losing you.”

Brian turned on his side to face Roger now and placed a delicate hand on the blonde’s cheek as the tears escaped and ran down his skin. He gently thumbed it away and looked Roger in the eye. “What I did, was a poor decision in a moment of weakness. I was being selfish and in the moment, I didn’t care how it would affect anyone else. I was thinking irrationally, and I’m sorry, Rog.”

The drummer looked a confusing mixture of angry, scared, and understanding. “D-Do you really want t-to die, Brian?” He nearly whispered in the room.

Brian May loathed that he actually had to take a minute to think about the question before he answered. It should’ve been an automatic ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, but to him, it wasn’t. He searched Roger’s face before he shook his head.

“No, Rog. I don’t want to die. I just…” he sighed, trying to collect his thoughts to make sense of them and form them in a sentence that anyone else might understand. “I just wanted the guilt I was feeling to go away, and I was willing to do anything to make that happen.”

To his surprise, the drummer nodded. Whether it was in acknowledgement or understanding, Brian couldn’t be sure, but he was grateful that no further questions pertaining to his suicide attempt were being asked.

“Why did you think it was John knocking earlier?” Roger asked, changing the subject rather abruptly, but much to Brian’s relief.

He chuckled weakly but planted a kiss on the younger man’s forehead and lingered there before he answered. “John’s the only one who knocks before entering rooms. You and Freddie just barge right in.”

Roger chuckled feebly and smirked slightly. He curled his body into Brian’s and the two men fell asleep lying just like that, their hands still intertwined.

 

**ꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷꟷ**

**  
** When Brian woke up, he turned to see Roger still fast asleep and decided that he needed it. He carefully stood up and made his way to the kitchen and glanced at the clock as it read nearly five in the evening. He put the kettle on and grabbed a cup out of the cupboard before placing a teabag in it.

Then he heard footsteps coming up behind him, and he knew whose they were. He bit his lip. “All right, Fred?”

The singer let out a chuckle in amusement that Brian could tell his footsteps apart from the others. “May I have a cup of tea as well, darling?”

“Yeah, of course.” Brian grabbed another cup and placed a teabag in that one, along with a spoonful of sugar.

“You gave me quite a fright, dear. I thought I was about to have a heart attack earlier when I saw you on that bridge,” the singer confessed.

The guitarist knew there was no way he’d be able to get out of having this conversation with Freddie so he decided just to let it happen. It’d be easier on both of them and their friendship in the long room. He knew that the other man deserved answers, as did John, and he’d give them the best he could. There was no more keeping secrets in Queen.

Brian turned around as he waited for the water to boil and chewed on his bottom lip before half shrugging, unsure what to say to him. “I’m sorry, Freddie. I didn’t mean to scare you, or anyone, for that matter. At the time… I thought it was the best thing for everyone.”

Freddie looked at him with curious eyes before he tilted his head slightly to the side. “How do you figure, darling?”

The older man took a deep breath before letting it out again. “I was feeling a lot, Fred. I was… stressed out about Roger, and I felt guilty about what happened to him, what kept happening to him. I felt responsible for him almost getting attacked by Peter. I just… I don’t know. I was feeling a lot of pressure and I hated myself for not being able to protect Rog.”

Freddie’s expression was unreadable for the longest time before he nodded slowly, perhaps starting to see where Brian was coming from. When the kettle started to scream, Brian turned around and poured hot water over the teabags in each cup respectively before letting it steep and grabbing the milk from the fridge.

“How are you feeling now, Brian?” The question was innocent enough, a reasonable question to ask, all things considered, but the guitarist couldn’t help but feel frustrated and realized now that he knew how Roger had felt before when people kept asking him how he was feeling.

“I feel okay, I think,” Brian nodded, glancing over at the singer. “A bit shaky, and still guilty, but… after talking to Roger earlier, I don’t want to kill myself. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I think… I was just overthinking everything, now that I’m able to think about things from a more logical standpoint. I was scared and self-loathing.”

Freddie seemed satisfied with that answer and then poured the milk into the cups for Brian before handing one of them off to him.

“I’m still going to worry about you, dear. I worry about all of you,” Freddie disclosed. “Anyway, I know it doesn’t do any good, but… you don’t need to feel guilty about what’s happened with Rog. None of us would’ve been able to help him, I think. I think it would’ve happened anyway, no matter what, like what he said on the bridge to you earlier. I hate to say it, but Roger’s right.”

Brian cracked a small smile. “Did that pain you to admit that?”

Freddie grinned and laughed softly, nodding. “Yes, darling. As a matter of fact, it did… but it’s true. Peter’s a psychopath, Brian, and he would’ve stalked Roger no matter what. None of us would’ve been able to help Roger. It’s just one of those bad deals that life dishes out sometimes.”

Brian nodded, wanting to believe it. He didn’t want to feel guilty anymore. He didn’t want to hate himself anymore, and he needed to believe that it would’ve happened to the drummer regardless of who was watching him.

“Right.”

Freddie took a sip of his tea before he set it down and then carefully wrapped his arms around the taller man, holding him tightly. Brian skillfully moved his cup before the tea threatened to spill over the edge and wrapped an arm around Freddie as well.

“Please don’t you ever do that again, Brian,” the singer pleaded as he hugged his friend and brother. “I simply couldn’t stand it if we lost you.”

The guitarist had no idea the impact he would have on the band. He knew they were family, but he didn’t realize how much he meant to them all. “I’m sorry, Fred.”

When the two men moved away, Brian saw tears running freely down the singer’s face and he shook his head. “Aw, come on now, Fred. No tears. I’m right here. No need to cry for me,” he tried to lighten the mood.

Freddie let out a short laugh and quickly wiped his face before he picked his tea back up and cleared his throat. “I’m going to go drink this in my room but feel free to make some dinner for us if you’d like,” he suggested teasingly.

Brian let out a playful scoff of disbelief. “Oh, right. I see why you really need me around now…”

Fred chuckled and smirked. “Kindly piss off, darling.”

Brian watched the other man wink at him before disappearing down the hall and then shook his head before he took his tea into the living room where John was sitting on the couch, wrapping in a blanket as he watched telly.

He sat down beside the youngest of the other members and gave him a friendly smile before he realized that John’s body was shaking slightly inside the blanket and noticed he was crying.

He chuckled in disbelief. “Oh god, not you too, Deaky,” he teased lightly.

The bassist laughed weakly and shook his head dismissively, waving his hand as he sniffled and tried to pull himself together. “S-Sorry… I just… can’t imagine a world without you in it, Brian. It’s not right.”

Brian took a sip of his tea and then wrapped his arms around John and gently pulled the man towards him, hugging him tightly. “No tears, mate. I’m still here. We’re all still here. We’re going to be all right. I’ll be all right.”

“W-Will you, though?”

Brian nodded against him before he let him go with the other arm but still kept an arm locked around him. “I believe so, yes.”

John was quiet for a beat before he looked at him. “Can I-I ask you a question?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, of course. Anything, as long as it doesn’t have to do with today…” When he saw John withdraw and turn back to the television, Brian gently nudged him. “I’m taking the piss, Deaky. Sorry, go ahead with your question, mate.”

The younger man looked back at him again. “When you were up there, on the bridge, w-what was going through your head? I-I don’t mean that in a mean way… I just… I just want to know.”

Brian thought about telling him the same things he had told Roger and Freddie, but he hadn’t told them the whole truth. The rest of what he had been thinking about didn’t seem all that important to mention, but for some reason, he felt like he wanted to tell John about it now.

Brian took another sip of his tea and turned to him. “Honestly, I was thinking about daughter universes.”

John raised his eyebrows and chuckled, obviously not having expected that answer. “S-Sorry? I don’t… understand.”

Brian wet his lips before he swallowed hard. “I was thinking how I was standing on the bridge in this universe, today, and wondering maybe… if there was another universe, a daughter one, where I h-had jumped, and if… Roger had been better for it.”

John seemed to understand now and he looked a bit anxious at the thought of that idea. He shook his head and searched Brian’s face. “I don’t know much about space and the universe, but… there is no universe where Roger would’ve been better off without you living in this world. He really loves you, and you know as well as Freddie and I that if you had jumped, he would’ve been gone a second after you.”

Hearing John confirm everything that Brian knew about Roger was strangely gratifying and validating. It was good to know that he wasn’t being dramatic about the drummer. He nodded in agreement and a part of him felt a bit ashamed.

“I didn’t… I never meant to scare any of you. You weren’t even supposed to find out until…” he trailed off.

“Until they found your body?” John asked with dread in his voice, shaking his head. “I understand you were feeling guilty about Roger but… suicide isn’t an answer to your problems because… then it just creates more for the people you left behind. I’m really sorry you were feeling that desperate, Brian, I am. I wish you felt like you could’ve talked to one of us about it, though.”

Brian nodded. He felt like he had almost this exact same conversation with Roger at some point, and he probably had. It seemed cruelly ironic that now John was giving him the exact talk. The only thing that would’ve been more ironic is if it had been Roger, but now that he thought about it now, technically the drummer _had_ given him a similar talk earlier.

“I know, Deaky. I just… didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want any of you to have to carry that on your shoulders. It felt easier to keep it inside.”

The bassist bit his lip nervously and looked over at him. “I know… it’s still fresh but… have you considered talking to a professional about it maybe?”

Brian rubbed his temple and shook his head. “Not really, no. I know it’s an option but… I honestly feel better talking to any of you about it more than I feel like talking to a therapist about it. Anyway, get the wrong person and I could end up in the papers, and not just me… but the rest of you too just because you’re associated with me.”

“I don’t care if we end up in the tabloids, Brian. I just want to get better.”

Brian gently caressed the man’s shoulder comfortingly. “I appreciate your concern, John. You’re a good man, a great friend. I just… I don’t think I’m ready to get that kind of help yet. Just believe me when I tell you that you don’t have to worry about me trying again.”

John nodded, looking at Brian with cautious eyes. “I thought that I didn’t have to worry about you trying to kill yourself ever,” he took a shaky breath before he sniffled and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I won’t say anything else about it.”

The guitarist swallowed back the lump his throat and he took another sip of his tea. “John, you can talk to me about how _you’re_ feeling about me whenever you want. I don’t mind. I think that was half the problem of this band, the communication breakdown between us, which was partially my fault. I’ll try better from now on to talk about things instead of bottling them up inside, but I’m still going to have bad days.”

John gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know, well… you can talk to me on those days if you feel up to it. I’m here for you, Bri.”

He smiled back and hugged him again before he finally released him again. “Thank you, Deaky. That means a lot to me.”

The two men sat close as they watched telly for about an hour and a half, and then Roger came out sleepily, a blanket wrapped around him as he walked around the couch and looked at the two men.

“C-Can I sit with you guys?” Roger asked, a little timidly.

John and Brian both smiled at the blonde and made room in between them for Roger and watched as he made himself comfortable. Brian wrapped an arm around him and Roger hugged himself close to the other man before joining in watching television.

Just then Freddie came out with his empty tea mug and set it down before he ran over to the men. “Make room for me, darlings!” He jumped on the couch on top of Brian and Roger, who both let out groans of pain.

“Jesus, Freddie… my bollocks! Be a little considerate, yeah?” Roger complained, trying to reposition himself so he could be more comfortable.

“I’m with Rog on this,” Brian also groaned, moving over before moving Roger over as well so the singer could squeeze between John and Roger on the couch. “Oww….”

“Sorry, darlings,” Freddie chuckled, moving himself off of Brian and Roger and sighed contently once he got comfortable. “I just thought I’d join our little happy family on the couch.”

“You can, just don’t crush our junk.” Roger shook his head, rolling his eyes as he leaned against Brian. “There, anyone else want to perform aerobatics before we settle in for the night?”

Freddie scoffed. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, darling. Honestly…”

“All right, then. Everyone sit still and shut up. I’d like to eventually hear the news at some point over your chatter,” the guitarist complained. The men started to talk amongst themselves but Brian was able to hear the news over them so he didn’t scold them.

Luckily, he wasn’t on it, but he wondered if it was only a matter of time if he was, and how it would affect Queen, because surely, that would be his fault as well.


	11. family is forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, this is the end, my friends. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, advice, ideas, input, kudo'ing, and subscribing and bookmarking! I really appreciate all of you taking the time to do all of it! You all are amazing. If you enjoyed reading this, and you haven't already, go ahead and check out my other Bohemian Rhapsody fanfics I have (they're not as intense as this fic might have been, and a bit more fluffy, but still filled with angst!). 
> 
> thank you all again! :)

**.    .    .**

A couple weeks went by, and although Brian still felt somewhat guilty, he no longer was feeling suicidal. He had wanted to jump off that bridge because he thought the others would be better for it, but when he had heard and seen Roger that day, he couldn’t imagine his life without the drummer in it.

He knew between his classes at uni and his experiences with Roger throughout their lives, there wasn’t a cure for depression. He did know, however, that it could go dormant for a bit before it rose again. Although it didn’t, _couldn’t_ , go away completely, he actually felt happy and “normal” being around his friends and boyfriend again as they hopped from their small flat in London to their bigger one occasionally.

He felt useful, and he knew the other men were helping him feel that way as well. John had asked him last week to help him hold the ladder so he could screw in another lightbulb in the kitchen. Roger had asked his help with cooking dinner for all of them, and Freddie had asked his help with a song and asked his opinion on the lyrics for it.

They were currently hanging out at the larger place Freddie had bought for them and were eating lunch outside at a large table as the rare glimpse of sun smiled its rays upon all of them. Brian looked over at Roger who was also looking the happiest he’d seen him in a long time and felt his own heart warm.

“John, dear, can you help me inside for a minute, please?” Freddie asked, standing up from the table. John smiled and nodded before he followed the singer inside, leaving Roger and Brian alone at the table as they finished their sandwiches and fruit salads.

Brian turned to the younger man. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Roger nodded, giving Brian a loving smile. “How about you, Bri? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

The guitarist smiled back but shrugged. “I’m okay. I guess I’m just enjoying spending time with you and the others. This is nice. No tours, nowhere to be, no hotels, psychopath stalkers… it’s lovely.”

Roger chuckled but nodded in agreement. “Yeah, true. Umm…” the drummer appeared to be a little nervous now. “I… I had a dream the other night, I meant to tell you. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was a dream but… it felt real, like… maybe it was a flashback or something?”

Brian looked up at him with interest. “Oh yeah? Go on.”

“Well,” Roger scratched his temple. “You weren’t there right away, but it was me and Freddie and we were outside this club at night, and these guys were… they were mocking Freddie because, well, you know… the usual shit, and the one guy flicked a cigarette at him, and then I just lost it, in my dream. I punched him, and he punched me and we got into it; he broke my nose. Then you came out with John, because I guess he forgot something inside, and I fixed my nose. I put it back into place, or whatever, and then we went home.”

Brian had started smirking when he listened to Roger’s dream, remembering that night. “Sounds like it was a flashback and a dream.”

Roger straightened up a bit. “It really happened then?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, we couldn’t agree on what club to go to, Freddie won out in the end, though, so we ended up at this gay club. Freddie and you told me eventually what happened though; they were calling Freddie and yourself names, and you got angry and you got into it with the guy. He did break your nose, but you fixed it yourself, because you knew how to do that. It really did happen, though. You stood up for Freddie and he called you his hero.”

The drummer smiled brightly now, red warming his cheeks at the thought of being anyone’s hero. He leaned against Brian who chuckled and wrapped his arm around him before kissing his head. “You’re my hero too, you know.”

Roger scoffed, shaking his head. “Shut up, I am not. The others saved you, not me. Anyway, I think technically you saved yourself.”

Brian shook his head right back at him. “Rog, I was… ready to jump until I heard your voice and I saw your face… and all the things you said, how you begged me not to leave you. It broke my heart, but… it was good that you said it. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t think it could possibly affect you negatively until I heard your voice.”

“I love you, Bri. I couldn’t go on living if you weren’t around anymore. You terrified me. I swear if you ever do anything like that again, I’ll just kill you myself,” Roger joked.

The older man nodded and took a deep breath. “Fair enough. I mean it though… you really are my hero.”

“You’re mine.”

Brian smiled and hugged him again against his side and looked towards the house, seeing Freddie and John both talking and laughing inside. There was a comfortable silence between Brian and Roger for a few minutes until the drummer suddenly spoke.

“I-I still wish you would talk to someone about it, though. I’m worried for you, Brian.”

His words made Brian’s chest ache. He chewed on his lower lip before he shook his head. “Maybe someday I will, but… I’m not ready yet. I just can’t… tell a stranger all my secrets. I appreciate your concern about me, but I can’t get help yet.”

Roger nodded, acknowledging he had heard him but he still looked frustrated. “What if… you try it again?”

Brian searched his face, wishing he had all the answers. “I really don’t believe I will, but if I do, then you’ll kill me yourself, right?” He tried to lighten the tone, but Roger wasn’t in the mood anymore.

“I’m serious, Bri! What if you do it again?”

The guitarist took a deep breath and let it out before he turned to face Roger and took his hands in his own, holding them. “Roger, I love you. I’d do anything for you… but you need to stop asking me that question because I’m not going to do it again. I just… feel like I won’t. I was on that bridge for selfish reasons I can’t even explain. I don’t feel those things anymore that I felt that night. I feel happier, better. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but I don’t want to think about the ‘what-ifs,’ Rog. I just want to live in the moment and hold onto the things that make me happy.”

This seemed like a good enough answer to satisfy the blonde because he gave him a small smile and nodded. “All right.”

Brian kissed his lips and felt Roger kiss him back. Of course that was the moment Freddie and John decided to come back out again, a tea tray full of cups in his arms.

“ _Do_ try to keep it in your pants until later, Brian,” he teased with a playful smirk. “I’m pretty sure you’ve shagged him in every room in this bloody house!”

The guitarist sighed and still had his arm around Roger when he pulled away from him and looked over at Freddie to say something, but Roger was the one to say it instead.

“I’m pretty sure _you’ve_ shagged in every room in this house, Freddie.”

Brian laughed, along with John and Freddie just stuck in his tongue out at them.

“You’re just jealous because you’re stuck with Roger until one of you dies and I’m still a free man.”

Brian shook his head. “Oh yes, it’s so horrible being faithful and monogamous with someone you love. What a terrible, terrible thing to be.”

Freddie shrugged. “I’ve never been in love, darling. I wouldn’t know how it feels.”

“You’ve never loved anyone that you’ve shagged?” Roger asked him, curious. “Or even… felt like you might love?”

Freddie shrugged and shook his head. “No, dear. I’m afraid I haven’t. I’ve just had a bit of fun. Life’s too short to worry about love. I just want to have a bit of fun.”

“Well I’d say you certainly have had that, Freddie,” John spoke, smirking.

The singer took a sip of tea before he lit up a cigarette and took a drag. “Well, I must say, I never thought I’d see the day when Roger became a one-person man. The entire time I’ve known him, he’s been through so many of them, that he’s forgotten their names! At least I can remember my lovers’ names.”

Roger rolled his eyes but he was half smirking. Brian gave Roger a teasing smile as well. “I didn’t think that day would come either, to be honest… but I’m glad it has. I can’t see myself loving anyone else the way I love him.”

John grinned. “Awwwww… how sweet. You two give me cavities.”

It was Brian’s turn to roll his eyes and shake his head before he took a sip of the tea as well. The men soon became so engrossed in casual conversation that they hadn’t noticed the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds and rain had started to come down in droplets.

“Fuck!” Freddie screeched, grabbing the empty bowls and plates. “Shit, shit shit!” He ran inside the house quickly to get out of the rain.

The other three men were chucking at Freddie goodheartedly as he raced inside with the men following close behind after putting the cups on the tray and grabbing it. Brian closed the door behind them just as it started to rain harder, pelting the windows with a never-ending barrage of tapping.

Brian set the tea tray on the coffee table in the living room and helped Freddie clean up their plates and empty fruit bowls. Roger immediately grabbed his tea again and joined John on the couch before turning the television on.

Brian had just finished helping the singer clean up when he heard suddenly heard Roger exclaim from the living room.

“Brian! Bri!”

The voice had sounded so urgent that the guitarist was sure that Roger had somehow managed to hurt himself on something and was bleeding out when he ran in quickly. “What? What is it?”

Roger, not bleeding but looking shocked, pointed to the telly now, turning up the volume.

_Oh god, this was it; Brian’s suicide attempt had finally made it to the news._

But it surprisingly wasn’t about him.

_“… The police have arrested Peter Williams, who is charged with unlawful wounding, as well as assault occasioning actual bodily harm, both against a young woman whose name is not yet known. Mr. Williams will face the magistrates’ court next Tuesday. It is predicted he will face up to three years imprisonment. There was blood also found on his vehicle as well as damage, indicating he might have also been involved in a hit and run. If found guilty of such, his imprisonment will be extended…”_

Brian swallowed hard and looked over a Roger who looked back at him in disbelief.

“T-That’s the one who’s been stalking you, isn’t it, Rog?” John asked, looking over.

The drummer had tears glistening in his eyes but there was nothing but relief washing over his face as he looked at Brian. “I-I can’t believe it… I didn’t think he’d ever be found and arrested.”

Brian bit his lip before he searched the young man’s eyes. “He isn’t going to be charged with your attempted rape, though. You know that, don’t you?”

Roger nodded but the look of relief never disappeared. He ran his hands over his face as a slight smile appeared on his face. “I-It doesn’t matter. I mean… I’m just fucking glad they got the bastard for something and he won’t have a chance to come after me again. I’m just… so relieved, Bri. I thought he’d just get away scot free, and now he can’t hurt that girl again.”

The men all exchanged looks with each other, none of them having the heart to tell Roger that he would still be getting out of prison one day and there was a chance he wouldn’t be giving up that easily. John gently patted Roger’s back in support and Brian kissed his temple.

“This is great news, darling,” Freddie agreed. “How about a drink to celebrate?”

Brian shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll stick with tea, I think. It’s not even two in the afternoon yet…”

“Five o’clock somewhere and all that though, right dears?” Freddie was already in the kitchen, grabbing three tumblers and pouring vodka into each one. He walked back out and handed two of them to John and Roger respectively while Brian sipped his tea still, watching his friends toast.

“To this wondrous occasion and to… an enormous amount of luck,” John toasted, raising his glass before he took a drink, cringing slightly as the clear liquid burned his throat.

Roger swallowed it without a second though and barely cringed as it went down. “Thank fuck that prick is going to be locked up. I can finally relax.”

“Here, here!” Freddie cheered, raising his glass before he also took a celebratory sip.

Brian chuckled, feeling his heart grow and warm at their excitement. He hoped Peter would be in prison longer than three years and they’d never see him again, but Brian felt relief as well. He felt like this was a sign that it was time their new life started and they left their own lives behind.

This was a second chance for all of them and they weren’t about to blow it. Brian still wasn’t planning on seeking out help, but he promised himself if he felt he needed it, he’d ask this family he had toured, fought, eaten, drank, and fought with for several years.

His story didn’t end here; as a matter of fact, it was only the beginning.


End file.
